Waiting for You
by fms-fangirl
Summary: Randy Orton thinks he can have everything: a wife and child, a home, a career and Evan Bourne. A serious accident forces him to make a choice. Warning: M/M Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Bob Orton hesitated outside the hospital waiting room. He liked to think that he had seen everything, but there were some things that you're just never prepared for. Taking a deep breath, he walked in and crossed the room to where his daughter-in-law was sitting.

"How is he?" he asked quietly.

Samantha looked up at him, her face ravaged by grief and worry. "He's still heavily sedated," she whispered, trying not to disturb her little daughter, sleeping in her arms. "The doctors have said that he can be released as soon as he comes around."

"So it's not serious?"

"He's pretty banged up. He broke his nose so he's going to have a couple of black eyes and they are worried about his shoulder, but he should be as good as new in a couple of weeks."

Visibly relieved, he scooped up his little granddaughter and settled her head against his shoulder as she mumbled in protest. "Thank God," he breathed. "What about Evan?"

"His parents are with the doctors right now."

Anything he might have said was cut off as a woman in her fifties came into the room. Samantha sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around her. "Monica," she said softly, "is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know," she said, struggling to retain her composure. "I – I can't really think straight right now. I need to call the boys."

"Would you like me to do that?"

"No," she said, pulling away. "I'll call Dan right away, but I'm not sure how to get hold of Mike. He's on tour in the Carolinas somewhere." She pressed her thumb and forefinger against her eyelids. "It's ridiculous. He called me yesterday to let me know that he'd forgotten his cell phone. I laughed and told him that mankind had survived for thousands of years without cell phones; he should be able to manage for a few days. And now…"

"I'll track him down," Orton said. "I still know most of the promoters out there."

"Could you?" she said as Evan's father came into the room. "Michael, Bob is going to try to get hold of Mike."

"Thank you," he said gruffly, putting an arm around his wife. "The doctors need to see us."

"As soon as I've handed this young lady over to my wife, I'll get on the phone," he promised.

"Thank you Bob," Sam echoed as Evan's parents disappeared back into the Intensive Care unit.

"It's a relief to be able to do something. You just feel so helpless at a time like this."

XXXXXX

Sam answered the door the following afternoon to find John and Liz Cena on her doorstep. 'You shouldn't have come all this way," she exclaimed even as she hugged them both tightly.

"Of course we should have," Liz said, following her into the kitchen. "How's Randy?"

"He's upstairs. I brought him home last night. What are you looking for?" she asked as John swept the room with a glance.

"Broken furniture," he said. "I was sure he would have half demolished the place by now."

"He's been very quiet," Sam answered. "In fact, he's barely said a word since he got home."

"I guess the drugs haven't worn off yet," John said, bounding up the stairs.

"Do you want some coffee?" Sam asked. "You know you're welcome to stay here."

"I'm fine," Liz said, pulling her to sit down, "and we've already checked into a hotel. We wouldn't dream of imposing on you right now. We just wanted you to know that we're here if you need us."

"Thank you," she replied, dabbing at her eyes. "John will be good for Randy. It's true; he hasn't said more than about five words since they let him out last night."

"And Evan?"

"He was released this morning; His brother, Dan, called. He'll keep us informed. I don't want to bother Michael or Monica; they have way too much to deal with right now."

"So what happened exactly?" Liz asked.

"It was raining and it was dark; the roads were bad. He lost control and slammed into a tree." She swallowed hard. "Randy was very lucky."

"But what were they doing out like that in the middle of the night?" As Sam refused to meet her eyes, she flushed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Oh!" she said softly.

"It's okay; you don't have to be embarrassed." She reached out to squeeze the other woman's hand.

"And you don't mind?"

"Yes, I _do_ mind, but I always liked Evan and it's funny when you think about it. He's known Evan longer than he's known me…"

XXXXXX

_Ten years earlier_

Randy followed his father into the dingy arena, barely suppressing his amusement at the reaction his father's presence caused. He could tell that the older man was enjoying every second of it.

"Compared to some of the holes I worked in, this place is a palace," the elder Orton chuckled. "I hope you realise how lucky you are," he said. "Most of us have to put in years in places like this.

"Yes Dad," he replied dutifully, barely managing to avoid rolling his eyes. But he was fortunate, he knew. His father's influence had secured him entry into the WWF, but he knew the rest was up to him and, recalling his father's anger and disappointment over his ignominious exit from the Marines, he was determined to make him proud. And if that meant following him to indy shows in rat holes, he'd do it."

"Some of these guys will be your opponents and rivals one day," he said. "Pay attention. You might learn something."

It was a fairly standard show. A couple of the wrestlers showed some definite promise and there were one or two has-beens, whom his father remembered. His father kept him laughing with a running commentary of embarrassing stories about them, but one kid caught his attention. He didn't even look old enough to shave; he was skinny as a rail and incredibly raw, but he radiated energy and enthusiasm and had an infectious smile.

"Somebody should tell that kid not to grin when he's taking a beat-down," Bob whispered to him.

His father was right, he knew, but he seemed lit up with happiness; he couldn't have looked more excited if he were headlining Wrestlemania.

The promoter approached them and shook Bob's hand. "Would you consider coming back to the locker room?" he asked. "They'd be thrilled to meet you."

Randy watched his father lap up the adulation in the locker room after the show, but he also noticed that he made an effort to speak to every single participant, finding something to compliment each of them with, until he reached the skinny kid.

"Don't smile when you're getting the crap kicked out of you," he said. "It makes you look like a retard."

Seeing the youngster's crestfallen expression, Randy hurried to his side. "You must be good," he said in a low voice. "The old man doesn't waste his time giving advice to guys who he doesn't think are worth it."

"Really?" he said, smiling uncertainly.

"Really," he replied. "I'm Randy," he said, extending his hand.

"Evan," he said, "and I know who you are. You're going into the WWF soon, aren't you?"

"That's right," he said, smiling down at him, strangely unwilling to end the encounter. "Maybe you'll join me there soon."

"Jeez! Do you really think so?" he asked turning bright red.

"I do," he said. "Nice meeting you, Evan," he added as his father gestured that he was ready to leave.

They were waylaid by the promoter and it was another fifteen minutes before they made it to the parking lot. Just as Bob was starting his car, he saw the kid following a couple to their car. He had noticed them during the show, sitting on the opposite side of the ring. They couldn't have looked more out of place if they had been dressed to attend the opera. He realised that they had to be his parents and smiled to himself at the idea that that kid was so young he had to get his mom and dad drive him to the shows.

XXXXXX

John couldn't help smiling at the sight of Randy lying on the bed, his arm in a sling, his nose heavily bandaged as Alanna stuck Band-Aids all over her father.

"I see you're getting good nursing," he said.

Randy smiled faintly and caressed his daughter's hair. "The best."

"Hey sweetheart," he said, tickling her under her chin, "why don't you go downstairs and see what Aunt Liz brought you?"

Sitting at the end of the bed as she scampered off, he asked, "How are you? _Really_."

"What you see is what you get," Randy answered. "I have to see a specialist about my shoulder, but I should be back on the road soon. Everybody tells me I'm incredibly lucky."

"You are," John said gravely. "They let Evan go this morning. Liz and I will be stopping in a bit later."

Randy nodded silently and stared into space. "It's my fault, you know," he said dully. "I was driving like a mad man."

John blinked in surprise and said in a conciliatory tone, "You always drive like a mad man; everybody knows that."

"It was dark and the roads were wet and we were arguing."

"You two were always arguing. If he wanted to go to McDonalds you wanted to go to Wendy's; if you wanted to get breakfast at the IHOP, he wanted to eat at Denny's."

"Is that what people saw? Is that what people think about us: that we're like some bickering couple in a TV sitcom?" He was becoming visibly agitated.

"No Randy," John said softly, "not at all. What they saw was that Evan was only one who would ever argue with you or contradict you and he was the only one you ever let get away with it. Nobody, not for a minute, has ever doubted how you feel about Evan."

XXXXXX

He had been back on the road for two weeks. Everybody treated him with great kindness, but whenever he walked into a room an uncomfortable silence would fall on the assembled company. His shoulder still bothered him; he knew that Sam had spoken to John about it. He knew that John had used his influence to have him spared as much as possible. That would have to stop, he thought as he let himself into his hotel room. He'd have it out with him tomorrow.

"You're late," said a voice in the darkness.

He switched on the light and stared in disbelief at the slight dark-haired figure grinning at him. "How did you get in here?" he asked crushing him to his heart.

"That's not important," he replied, coiling his arms around Randy's neck and pulling his head down for a kiss.

An hour later, they lay replete, Evan's head pillowed on his shoulder. "I wish you'd told me you were coming," Randy murmured. "Were you waiting long?"

"Not really," he smiled up at him. "But you know I'll always be waiting for you."

"So are you back?"

"No," he sighed. "Just a visit. Nobody even knows I'm here."

"How long then, before you're back?"

"A while," he shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure, but I have to take off first thing in the morning. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "So, how did you get in here? Did you give the hotel maid that look of yours?"

"You mean this one?" Evan laughed as he opened his eyes wide, gazing about with an expression of sorrowful innocence.

"Yes, that one," he chuckled. "Remember when you talked that female highway patrol cop out of giving us ticket with that."

"I always thought it was your devastating charm that did the trick."

"Maybe it was, but you have to admit that, combined, we sure got away with a lot of crap."

"We sure did."

XXXXXX

_Nine years earlier_

Randy made his way to the locker room of the high school gym where Evan's most recent show had taken place, wrinkling his nose at the smell of mildew.

"Randy!" Evan exclaimed as he hurried over to him, "I couldn't believe it when I saw you out there."

"Oh, you noticed me then?"

"There were about twenty-five people in the audience," he laughed. "Anyway, nobody could ever miss you."

"We had a show in Topeka this afternoon and somebody mentioned an indy show in Jefferson City tonight. I thought I'd stop by and say happy birthday."

"It's a three and a half hour drive from Topeka to here," Evan said. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's on the way home anyway," Randy said with a dismissive shrug. "And you only turn eighteen once. What if we grab a burger and drive back home together?"

"That would be great," he answered, glowing with pleasure. "Just let me go tell them I've got a ride."

Twenty minutes later they were driving along the highway. "I'd buy you a beer," Randy said, "but you're not old enough, so I guess it's a burger and milkshakes."

"That's okay," he said. "I don't really like beer that much anyway."

"You'd better start liking it," he said as they pulled into a diner. "Almost everybody in this business drinks like a fish. You should hear some of the stories my old man can tell."

"But that was before," Evan protested. "Things are different now."

That's what he thought, Randy mused as they took their seats. This past year had been an education to him and he had been better prepared than most by his father. But looking at Evan, his eyes shining, his face flushed with excitement, he felt a sudden pang. He looked even younger than his eighteen years; it would be a shame to see that enthusiasm dimmed and that innocence spoiled. "Are you sure this is really what you want to do?" he asked. "It's a hell of a life sometimes. You're young and bright. You have all sorts of choices."

"Jeez," he said, "you sound like my father."

"My dad didn't want me to go into this business either and he knows more about it than most."

"I did promise my parents that I would go to college. I'll be starting this fall; three days a week so I can keep wrestling."

"That's good," Randy replied. "At least you're keeping your options open. By the way," he added, "my dad saw your last show at home. He says you're still telegraphing some of your spots."

"I know and I am working on it."

"I can tell. You did much better tonight. You know the only reason why he says these things is because he thinks you're good and because you listen and learn."

"Why wouldn't I?" Evan asked. "You're so lucky to have someone like your dad, who can help you get better. I really appreciate that he takes the time to watch me sometimes and tell me what I'm doing wrong. Look at how well you're doing."

"Yeah – well," Randy said with a shrug. "I've been kind of lucky too. Anyway, my dad also said that you have to do something about your ring gear. It looks like your mother makes your tights."

"Because she does," Evan said. "I can't afford fancy gear right now. My parents have been really good about this and they're helping as much as they can with my college, but I can't expect anything more from them."

"That's what I thought," Randy said passing Evan a plastic bag. "Here, this is from my dad and me. Happy Birthday."

Evan opened the bag to find a couple of pairs of tights, new boots and shin guards. "Why Randy," he said softly, "you didn't have to do that."

"I know," he said smiling at him, "but I'm glad I could."

"Thank you, both of you. You and your dad have been terrific."

Later, in the car, as they drove back to St Louis, Randy listened to Evan indulgently as he chattered about recent shows, school and his family. He might not be able to deter Evan from his chosen course, but he could keep an eye on him, he thought and warn him about the dangers of the road. He was still very sheltered and naïve and could be easily led astray.

"You know," Randy began, "you haven't had much experience on the road, but if you're going to do this, you'll be spending plenty of time there. You're going to meet all sorts of people. Take that guy with the cowboy gimmick today."

"Who? Bullwhip? Whiplash? I never quite got his name."

"Yeah, him. Watch out for him. He's a known perv and he likes them young."

"Jeez," Evan said, opening his eyes wide, "he's been so nice to me. He said he'd pick me up next week and drive me to the show in Springfield. We were going to share a motel room." As Randy began to flush a deep red with anger, Evan burst out laughing. "I know I'm young and inexperienced, but I'm not stupid and you're not the first one to warn me about him."

Randy punched him affectionately on the shoulder. "I'm glad a couple of folks have been watching out for you, but you do need to be careful; not everyone is that easy to spot." He launched into a list of who shouldn't be trusted not to stab him in the back, who he should never lend money to and who he should never tell anything to, unless he wanted it spread through every locker room in the Midwest. Then he started to warn him about the locals, the ring-rats and the wrestling groupies.

"Honestly Randy," Evan interrupted, "I've seen them around, but none of them pay any attention to me."

"Maybe not yet," he retorted, "but they will. Stick to your girlfriend back home. It's safer."

Evan turned bright red. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Okay, but you'll probably get one when you're away at college."

"I don't want a girlfriend," he said so quietly Randy could barely hear him.

"That's what you think right now, but you'll-" Suddenly, he noticed Evan's wretched expression. "Oh! I see." They drove in silence for several miles. "Evan," he said, "it's okay. It doesn't make any difference to me. _Really_."

Sighing with relief, Evan said, "I'm glad. I've been wanting to tell you for a long time."

"Well now you have; I hope you feel better."

He diverted the conversation to lighter topics for the rest of the drive, but after he dropped Evan at his parents' house he couldn't help but dwell on his revelation. He was surprised, but not shocked. There had been some… experiments, for lack of a better word, in his own past. Randy, you fucking hypocrite, he thought. He was a fine one to be giving advice and warnings, when he considered some of his own behaviour over the past year. But who better? Some of the fallout had been ugly indeed. Perhaps he could prevent Evan from making the same mistakes.

XXXXXX

Sam was struggling with the straps on Alanna's stroller when she heard Randy speaking into his phone through the open mud room door that led into their kitchen.

"Hi Evan, it's me," he said. "Give me a call as soon as you can." His voice dropped an octave, containing a note she had never heard when he spoke to her. "I'll be waiting for you."

She felt a sick thud in her stomach. Still! In a way she had always known that she had been Randy's second choice, but she loved him so much that she had convinced herself it didn't matter. They _were_ happy together. In spite of their recent difficulties, she told herself fiercely. He was generous to a fault and he doted on Alanna. But when he was on the road and she lay alone in bed she was tortured by images of them together, of Randy speaking to him in low, caressing tones, of Randy embracing Evan with a passion he never showed her and of Randy gazing fondly at Evan, his normally icy eyes glowing a soft, luminous blue.

The only other person he ever looked at like that was Alanna, never her. She had only caught Randy looking at him like that once, but that had been enough for her to realise that Evan held a place in Randy's heart that she would never be able to occupy.

XXXXXX

_Five years earlier_

Sam hugged Bob and Elaine Orton and wished them both a Happy New Year. Linking her arm through Sam's, Elaine drew her around the room, introducing her to various Orton family friends who had dropped in for their New Year's Day open house.

"I know they seem a bit overwhelming," Elaine whispered as they approached a boisterous group of large grizzled men, "but most of them have hearts of gold. Just remember to take anything they say with a large block of salt."

The various ring veterans greeted her with bluff enthusiasm, one and all agreeing that Randy was a very lucky man. She could see Randy across the room, trapped by his aunt and several of his mother's friends struggling to make polite conversation. They had been dating for over a year now and she was still sometimes amazed that he returned to her after each road trip.

Her family and girlfriends had warned her about getting involved with Randy Orton; he had a reputation as a womaniser with a quick temper and nasty streak, but she had never seen any of that. He had, however, admitted that a great deal of the gossip about him was true.

"I was pretty wild for my first few years," he said. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of today. People will always gossip about me. Just don't listen to the bullshit they spew. Almost none of what they say about me today is true." He had gone on to talk frankly about the temptations of the road. "I'm no saint," he said, "and I'll warn you that I might slip, but-"

"That doesn't matter," she interrupted him. "As long as you come home to me. I'll be waiting for you."

In the past year, there had been one incident, which he had promptly confessed to her. Congratulating herself that they were able to build such an open and honest relationship, she had insisted that she understood and they had put it behind them.

Suddenly, she noticed Randy staring in her direction. His face lit up with a smile such as she had never seen before as he strode across the room, hurrying past her with a shout of, "Evan! You made it!" He caught him in a rough embrace and spun him around to face Sam. "This is Evan," he said, his arm slung affectionately around his shoulders. "Evan, meet Sam."

"It's so nice to meet you at last," he said with a grin as he held out his hand. "Randy talks about you all the time."

"Same here," she answered, instinctively liking him. "I hear you've been travelling all around the world."

"That's right," he said. "I've seen locker rooms all over Europe. Churches and museums are overrated," he laughed waving his hand.

"Hopefully, we can get him to stay put soon," Randy said. "Sooner or later, Vince has to come to his senses and sign him up."

"And in the meantime, I can further my acquaintance with every roach motel in America."

Bob Orton came over to shake his hand heartily and bore him off, bawling instructions about the right and wrong way to apply a wrist-lock.

"I think my dad's had too much of his own punch," Randy chuckled. "Come on," he said, taking her hand, "let's go find some food."

An hour later, she had lost track of him. Discovering the downstairs powder room was occupied, she went upstairs to use the bathroom there. As she came out, she could hear voices coming from Randy's old room. He and Evan were standing close together in the dark, silhouetted by the brilliant moonlight that poured in through the open curtains.

"I have to drive Sam home," Randy whispered, "but I can be back in less than half an hour. Will you be here?"

"You know I'll always wait for you," Evan replied quietly, "but not like before. We can go for a beer and talk, but that's it."

"I see you're still wearing this," he said, hooking his finger around the cord with a few beads strung on it Evan had around his neck.

"I wear it almost all the time."

"Do you remember when we got it? Do you remember what I said to you?"

"Oh course," he whispered, "but things have changed."

"Nothing has changed," Randy hissed. "Nothing!"

Unable to listen to any more, Sam moved quietly down the hallway and fled downstairs.

"Sam! Are you all right?" Elaine Orton hurried over to her. "You're looking very pale and shaky."

"I – I think I've had bit too much of Bob's punch," she managed to reply. "It's lethal."

"Do you want to lie down?"

"No, but I think I should go home," she said, struggling to stay calm.

"I'll find Randy and get your coat."

They drove in silence to her parents' house. She could see the concern and affection in Randy's eyes as she fended off his questions and abruptly changed the subject. "Evan seems very nice," she said, watching him carefully.

"He is," Randy asserted. "He's probably the nicest person I've ever met. He works so hard and he's so talented."

Sam remained quiet for several minutes, carefully considering her next statement. "Randy," she began, "do you remember when you told me about that girl in Abilene?"

"Yes," he said, his posture growing wary.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"Like what?"

"You know," she said, looking at him accusingly.

Randy did not reply, but she could see him clutching the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. "There's nothing to tell," he muttered. "Not anymore."

XXXXXX

They had become engaged a few months later. Evan sent her a humorous note stating that she was far too good for Randy and, by the time the wedding arrived, she had almost forgotten her suspicions. But like a sore tooth that she couldn't resist probing with her tongue, sometimes she had to test the matter, casually mentioning his name and watching Randy's reaction.

Randy responded in kind with casual replies and occasional tidbits of news. As far as she could tell they spoke on the phone once a month or, in the rare instances that their schedules had them in St Louis at the same time, they spent a few hours together, Evan sometimes coming to their house for a meal.

She had become fond of Evan. He was completely without guile and although she could detect a touch of hero-worship in his attitude towards Randy, she began to wonder if she had not assigned an unwarranted significance to their whispered conversation. Randy treated him with a gentle, brotherly affection, but sometimes… sometimes she noticed his hand resting on Evan's shoulder or caught a certain timbre in his voice when he spoke of him that started her questions all over again.

The Christmas after they were married Evan's parents went on a cruise and Randy insisted that Evan, who was in town for a few days before New Year's, stay with them. She had only just discovered she was pregnant and, feeling queasy one night, she left their bed and went downstairs, planning to find some soda crackers to nibble on.

Evan was sitting in their darkened family room watching the dying embers of the fire they had lit earlier. "Sam! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I couldn't sleep, so I came down here to think. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't disturb me at all," she said, carrying the box of crackers into the family room and sitting next to him on the couch. "I've heard of morning sickness," she said with a wry grin, "but I never expected evening sickness."

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, really. All I need is a couple of these," she said extending the box to him. "Have one. Have as many as you like. Take a box or ten home with you. When I told Randy they helped, he ran out to Costco and bought four cases."

"He's really excited about the baby," Evan said. "He told me he wants a little girl to spoil rotten. He's going to be a great dad."

"Bob was awfully hard on him as a kid."

"Well, Bob's old-school, but I think he'll be a terrific grandpa."

"You're right," Sam answered. "Randy tells me you'll be joining him in the new year."

"That's right. I'll be with the ECW roster. I'm really looking forward to it," he said. "Hopefully, now I'm a little more settled, I can get a place of my own. It's ridiculous for someone my age to be living with his parents."

"Somewhere near?"

"No. I thought I'd go somewhere that has better weather. Florida maybe."

"Randy will be disappointed."

"He'll have plenty of opportunity to get sick of me on the road," he grinned.

_The road_. Suddenly, she had a vision of Randy and Evan drinking beer together after a show, laughing together as they shared a world she could barely understand, returning to the hotel together, maybe even sharing a room. A sudden swell of nausea threatened her as she clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to swallow it back.

Even in the darkness, Evan could make out her stricken expression. "You know, don't you?" As she nodded, he whispered, "You must hate me."

"No, I don't" she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

"We stopped as soon as it started getting serious between you two," he said urgently. "I swear."

"I know," she said softly, "and I know that you were the one to stop it."

"Randy thinks he can have everything," he exclaimed with uncharacteristic bitterness. "A career, a home, a wife and family and – and-"

"You."

"It's impossible; we both know it. Anyway, he loves you and he'll love your baby and I'd – I'd never-"

"I know you wouldn't and how can I blame you for loving Randy?" she asked. "And how can I blame Randy for loving you? It's weird, but I actually feel very sorry for you. You have a lot to give; I wish you would find someone."

"Don't," he said flatly. "Don't feel sorry for me. I'm really very lucky. I have Randy's friendship. We were friends from the first and we've managed to keep that."

"I hope you think of me as a friend."

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "Do you see what I mean? I'm very lucky. How many other people in this situation would be able to keep two dear friends?"

Sam leaned her head against his shoulder and they sat in silence for many minutes, until Evan, noticing that her breathing had become deep and slow, realised that she had fallen asleep. He gently tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. He _was_ fortunate, but recalling Sam's expression earlier, he knew he would have to be very careful when he went on the road with WWE. He and Randy were on different rosters, but their paths would crossing frequently. He would have to take great care when in Randy's company. Samantha trusted him, but that trust, while a great gift, was also a heavy burden.

XXXXXX

Randy woke with a start and realised that he was alone in the bed. He had told Sam that she wouldn't disturb him; it was something of a joke that he could sleep through anything. Assorted members of the company swore that he had snored the night away once when their hotel fire alarm had gone off.

He climbed out of bed and headed downstairs, stopping short when he saw Sam, her head resting against Evan's shoulder, sound asleep.

"So much for my scintillating conversation," he whispered with a grin.

Standing behind the couch, gazing down on them he felt his heart clench. For a second he allowed himself to imagine that it was always like this: his wife, his child on the way and Evan, a beloved member of the family. All of them, sharing a home; the people he loved best in the world.

His eyes locked with Evan's and, for a fleeting instant, Evan's guard dropped and he stared back at Randy, his love and longing visible. Then the mask slipped back into place as he said, "You'd better take her upstairs."

Randy effortlessly lifted his wife from the couch as she mumbled and protested that he shouldn't carry her, she could walk perfectly well on her own. He returned a few minutes later and pulled a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Evan. "The doctor says that the wooziness should stop in another few weeks. I keep telling her that I don't care if she eats crackers in the bed, but she insists on getting up."

"She's probably restless and excited about the baby."

"I guess…" Randy said, his voice trailing off into silence as he finished his beer.

Evan set his beer aside and stared silently at the remnants of the fire as Randy reached out to brush his knuckles against Evan's cheek. He drew back slightly and said, "Go back to bed. Go upstairs to your wife."

XXXXXX

Randy pocketed his phone with a sigh. Evan was still not returning his calls, but every week or two, he would show up unexpectedly. He refused to discuss his eventual return, insisting that it was complicated, and would make no definite plans for his next visit, simply saying that he would come when he could. He had lost his temper last time, but Evan had merely smiled and told him to be patient.

Patience had never been his strong suit and the accident had made him realise how short and uncertain life could be. Too short to waste waiting, he thought, determined that the next time they met, he would force Evan to make some sort of commitment. This half-life that they shared was not good enough any longer. It never had been, but he had fooled himself into believing that something was better than nothing, telling himself that Evan's friendship and companionship was enough and later… Their snatched encounters had left them both depressed and saddened. He had made the wrong choice; he loved Sam and adored Alanna, but he could no more exist without Evan in his life, than he could stop eating or breathing.

XXXXXX

_Two years earlier_

Sam sat at the end of the unmade bed, her head buried in her hands. The baby had cried all night, dropped off to sleep for an hour and started again. She had been fed, changed, burped, cuddled, sung-to, rocked and soothed, but the fretful cries continued. The doctor said it was colic; that it would pass eventually. Her mother told her to let her cry; she'd wear herself out and fall asleep. Randy had suggested that they hire a nanny to give her a break, but she knew he was puzzled by her distraction and inability to cope. By some grim irony, Alanna stopped crying almost the instant her father came home, slept sweetly through the night and gurgled contentedly in his arms all day, only beginning to wail when the door shut behind him.

She picked up the small velvet box sitting on the night table and carried it into her enormous walk-in closet. She punched in the combination of the wall safe and opened it, tossing the box in to rest on top of many others. The shelves of the closet were crammed with a dizzying assortment of boxes and bags bearing the logos of the finest designers and most exclusive boutiques the world had to offer. Randy never returned from a road-trip without one. She had over a dozen pairs of gloves of the softest kid-leather imaginable, the lightest of cashmere shawls in a rainbow of colours and more designer handbags than she could count. Luscious silk lingerie spilled out of the boxes to make shimmering pools on the shelves, crowded for space by dozens of subtly-pattered scarves. She loathed every single item; she didn't want or need this ridiculous array of luxury goods that Randy bought to assuage his own guilt.

But more than the scarves, perfume and purses, she hated the jewellery. That was when she had known for certain. When Randy handed her a blue Tiffany box containing an aquamarine and diamond bracelet, when he dropped a box from Bulgari holding a pair of cabochon emerald earrings into her lap, when he fastened a pearl choker around her neck, but could not look her in the eye, she knew.

She couldn't seem to lose the weight she had gained while pregnant and she felt fat, sloppy and unattractive. She felt bad-tempered, tired and whiny all the time and, to her horror, she sometimes felt stirrings of resentment against Alanna. Randy had been appalled to catch her hanging over the crib one night, hissing at the baby, "Cry, damn you, and let _him_ see what it's like." That was when he suggested the nanny. She had hysterically refused and on his next trip home he had presented her with a star sapphire ring.

The ringing phone distracted her from her misery. Thrilled to hear Evan's voice she told him to stop by and have some lunch. A foot injury had forced him out of action for a few months and he'd flown into St Louis for his mother's birthday.

Sam was mopping the kitchen floor when he arrived. Wouldn't you know, she thought as she answered the door, Alanna stopped crying the second the doorbell rang. She hugged him affectionately, but took up the mop again saying, "I have to finish the floor. The cleaning lady is coming tomorrow."

"Um – doesn't that defeat the purpose of having a cleaning lady?"

"No!" she exclaimed, pushing her hair back from her face. "I don't want her to think I'm a slob."

Concerned by the slightly hysterical note in her voice, Evan gently took the mop from her and led her to a seat at the kitchen table. "I don't think she's paid to have an opinion and Randy would have a fit if he could see you doing this."

"He would," she said. As tears spilled down her face, she picked up a scarf lying on the table to wipe them away.

Evan handed her a tissue. "I don't know anything about this sort of thing, but even I can tell that scarf is awfully expensive."

"It is," she sniffled. "It's an Hermès. Randy brought it back from Paris last time he was there."

"It's very nice."

"It would be a lot nicer if it wasn't identical to the one he bought the time before," she said, her voice growing hard.

"I guess he just saw it and it made him think about you," he said, trying to conciliate her.

"I guess he went into the shop and picked out the most expensive one or," she said as fresh tears welled, "just called them and had it sent to his room." She blew her nose. "When we first started going out he used to bring me back a little gift. Usually, it was something that only cost a few dollars: some tacky souvenir or a silly t-shirt or something from the gift shop like a snow globe."

"That's because he missed you and was thinking about you."

"Then they started getting fancier after we were married. The first couple of times, I was thrilled. Who wouldn't be excited to get a Burberry bag from London or a Louis Vuitton scarf from Paris? Then it started getting ridiculous. Come on," she said, standing and pulling Evan with her. "I'll show you."

He followed her upstairs and blinked in surprise at the contents of the closet. "Randy's always been incredibly generous. And insecure," he added softly, catching hold of her hands. "He needs you to know how much he loves you and this is how he shows it. Most women I know, including my mother, would kill for even one or two of these things."

"Here," Sam said, shoving a flat orange Hermès box and a Gucci pocketbook at him, "take these. Give them to her for her birthday and tell your brothers to come over and pick something out for their girlfriends. I don't want this crap. He's not buying it because he loves me and misses me; it's guilt that makes him do it."

"I know he feels bad about leaving you alone so much, especially with a baby. He buys tons of stuff for Alanna," Evan temporised.

"Then how do you explain this?" she asked indignantly, flinging the safe door open, picking up a jumbled profusion of gold and silver and throwing it across the room. "Or this?" she cried, pulling a lavender jade necklace from its box, "Or these?" she shouted tossing a box containing a pair of diamond chandelier earrings at him. "He's screwing around and buys all this stuff to make himself feel better about it!" She collapsed to the floor, sobbing bitterly.

Evan gently pulled her to her feet and held her while she wept, helpless in the face of her despair. He couldn't deny her accusations because he knew every word she said was true. Randy's behaviour was common knowledge in the company. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

Sam pulled away from him and dried her eyes, staring silently at him for several minutes. "There is," she finally said.

"Anything, I swear."

"Get back together with Randy."


	2. Chapter 2

"_Get back together with Randy_."

"Are you insane?" Evan exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

"I do," Sam replied quietly, "and I mean it."

He could hear soft noises from the next room. "Alanna's awake," he said. "You go see to her and I'll go downstairs and make some sandwiches or something for us."

Sam joined him in the kitchen ten minutes later, Alanna in her arms. "Hey sweetie," he said, extending a finger, chuckling as she wrapped her hand around it and brought it to her mouth.

"She's going to start teething soon. That's all I need," she said, rolling her eyes, "another reason for her to cry all day. Do you want to give her a bottle?"

"I wouldn't have a clue how."

"It's not hard, I promise, and you couldn't possibly do worse than me."

"Now that's just silly," Evan said. "You're her mother."

"No, it isn't. I swear she doesn't like me."

Evan took the baby from her and sat down, uncertainly poking the bottle in her mouth. "You're tired and lonely and bored," he said. "Why don't you get Elaine or your mother to watch her for a day or two and travel with Randy?"

"Elaine offered, but I'm such a mess. Everyone would wonder what Randy could possibly see in me."

"You need a break," he said firmly." Go to one of those spas and get a manicure and facial and whatever else you ladies do there."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Randy. That's what he suggested."

"Because he's worried about you." He propped Alanna up against his shoulder and patted her back until she gave several healthy burps.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to do this," she said, taking her and laying her in her playpen. She resumed her seat and reached out to take his hand. "I meant what I said earlier."

"You think you did," Evan said, pulling his hand away. "You just think that the devil you know is better than the one you don't know."

"Maybe," she said, "but at least you won't try to take advantage of him or spill it all over the internet. You're safe."

"That's what you think!" he exclaimed as he tried to tamp down a rising anger. "You were right when you said I was the one to end it before. I could have fought for him and," he added in a tone she had never heard before, "I would have won."

"I know," she said in a low voice. "But you didn't. You love him enough to want what's best for him."

"And what if I decide that I'm what's best for him? Are you willing to take that chance? Randy will never leave you and Alanna for one of those women-"

"Or guys," she interrupted. "You didn't know that, did you?" she asked as something flickered across his face.

"I suspected," he said without emotion. "And what happens when you decide you've had enough?" He stood and walked to the door. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry you're unhappy and I'm sorry that Randy is doing this to you, but you really have no idea what you're asking of me. I don't know if I could let Randy go a second time."

XXXXX

But once the idea had been put out there, it couldn't be so easily dismissed and Evan found himself able to think of little else. He had spoken the truth when he'd said that Randy would have chosen him if he had forced the issue, but Sam had spoken the truth as well: he could never have forced him to make a choice so potentially disastrous to his career.

Randy had made several approaches in the past few months. He had managed to rebuff him gently, but a month earlier they had spent a free Sunday evening together and had finished an entire bottle of Jack Daniels. True, he had taken one drink to Randy's every four, but the conversation had taken a dangerous turn and he had come perilously close to giving in. Randy had stormed out of his room in a rage and things had been cool between them until he learned of his injury.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt," he shouted down the phone.

"It's not that serious," he replied. "I'll be out of action for a spell, but I don't need surgery or anything."

"Where are you staying while you're off?"

"Home, of course."

"You mean that shoebox in Tampa?" he asked. "Why don't you come back home?"

"Because that is my home." he replied calmly. "But I'll be in St Louis a few times, I'm sure."

"Good. Why don't you drop in on Sam while you're there? She'd love to see you and the company would do her good."

So, he'd done as Randy requested and had seen Sam. His heart ached for her obvious misery. It wasn't just postpartum depression or restlessness from being alone for long stretches with a fretful baby; her despair over Randy's behaviour coloured every aspect of her life and he was genuinely frightened that she might be driven to even more desperate measures than the absurd suggestion that she had made.

His mother had been thrilled with her gifts and his brothers' girlfriends were ecstatic to receive Chanel purses, but when he had shared a little of her state with his mother, she had agreed that Sam was on the brink of a breakdown and promised to check up on her. "I don't think she's very close to her own mother," she said, "and she probably doesn't want to worry Elaine. I'll get her out of that house for a few hours."

The day before he was due to fly back to Tampa, he was surprised to find Bob Orton on his parents' doorstep, brandishing a bag of tapes. "Just because you're not in the ring, doesn't mean you can stop learning," he said, following Evan to the rec room.

They spent a couple of hours watching various matches as Bob shrewdly pointed out missed spots, good recoveries and stupid mistakes. "Your size is always going to be against you," he said, "but if you learn to become a good in-ring general; how to call a match, you'll always have work as long as you're not expecting to be a main-eventer."

As Evan attempted to thank him for his time and advice he shrugged him aside. "The problem with most of you younger guys is that you all want to do flashy moves, but won't bother learning how to apply a decent arm-bar. You listen. I still hear an awful lot of what goes on and I know that there are lot of people who respect you, not just for what you can do, but for your attitude as well."

Evan could feel himself growing warm at these words. "Thank you," he said, turning bright pink, "I owe you and Randy both so much."

Orton watched him carefully with narrowed eyes before continuing, "Like I said, I hear a lot. Randy's in a bad way these days."

There was no point in attempting to deny this to Randy's father. "He misses Sam and Alanna."

"He misses you." He held up his hand to forestall any interruption. "Randy's made some bad choices in his life, but one of the worst was not choosing you." As Evan stared at him, dumbfounded, he continued, "Don't get me wrong; I love Sam and that little girl and so does Randy, but I've never seen him happier than when he was with you." He gave Evan a penetrating look. "I'd like to see him that happy again."

XXXXX

Everyone agreed that Randy was a changed man in the months after the accident. He had become exceedingly quiet and watchful, scanning every room he entered anxiously, only relaxing when he caught sight of the person he was looking for. Evan still refused to set a definite return date, begging Randy to be content with their occasional meetings.

"This is all I can manage right now," he said. "I don't know when I'll be back. Can't you wait?"

"I'll always wait for you," he said, caressing Evan's neck tenderly and hooking his finger around the necklace he had taken to wearing again.

"And I'll be waiting for you," he answered as he wound his arms around Randy.

Sam had overheard Randy speaking softly into his phone on several occasions and knew he was still calling Evan and felt faintly sick. Evan had been right: she hadn't really understood what she had been asking for. It was much harder than she had imagined seeing Randy growing impatient to leave for each road trip, knowing that he was filled with anticipation at the thought of being with Evan soon.

But the resumption of their relationship had saved her sanity. When Randy stopped buying her jewellery, bringing home instead a trinket chosen for something other than its price tag, she knew. When Randy came home week after week in good spirits, laughing and attentive, she knew. And when Randy started sleeping in the spare room most nights, claiming that the road has made him restless and sleepless, she knew. It was ironic, she thought, that Randy wouldn't cheat on Evan, but his contentment had pervaded their home. She found herself beginning to relax and take an interest in life, and Alanna responded to her new attitude, becoming less fretful and difficult.

Evan's mother, too, had been a life-saver. Monica had insisted on watching Alanna for a couple of hours every week, telling her to go out and indulge herself and had corralled her into joining the fund-raising committee for the library. She had met other young mothers and had begun to form friendships and build a life of her own. Her own mother had never approved of Randy and stopped just short of outright rudeness to his family. They had never been close. She remembered her mother's first words on learning of her pregnancy had been, "I hope you don't expect me to become an unpaid babysitter."

No, she expected nothing from her own mother. No wonder she had been so unable to cope with a baby; she'd had no one to learn from. But Monica and Elaine Orton had taught her that all mothers became frustrated and frazzled; it didn't mean she was a bad mother or a bad person. She didn't fool herself; the price she paid for this was high, but if, at night, she ached for her husband, at least she knew he was with someone who cared about his well-being as much as she did.

XXXXX

_Six years earlier_

Evan was about twenty miles away from home when his car sputtered and died. Banging the steering wheel with frustration, he pulled out his cell phone, but remembered that he had yet to top up his pay-as-you-go plan and couldn't call anyone. He located an old windbreaker among the crap on the back seat and put it on, hoping for some protection from the icy needles of rain that had been falling for several hours. He managed to push his car to the side of the road and began to trudge along the highway, remembering a service station several miles back.

What a rotten couple of days! He'd just come off a short run with a tiny indy promotion. They'd played to small, but generally appreciative, houses. His pay-off, however, had been considerably less than promised. He knew the promoter was ripping him off, but was unwilling to press the issue. He had been hoping to make enough to pay for the work his car so clearly needed, but now he was stranded in the rain on a chilly late April night with no way of getting home.

Arriving at the service station, he called home, but got no reply. Nor could he contact either of his brothers. He counted his change as he considered who to try next. One of his uncles? A school friend? The thought didn't appeal to him; even his own family, with the exception of his brother Mike, were confounded by his need to do this. Out of desperation he tried Randy's new number, almost weeping with relief when he answered on the third ring.

He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life when Randy pulled up a half-hour later and, shivering with cold, he climbed into his car, his thanks and apologies for disturbing him pouring out in an incoherent jumble.

"Hey!" Randy interrupted him. "It's okay. I wasn't doing anything special. You don't have to act like I just brought about world peace."

"But I really appreciate it. I was getting desperate. Are you sure you weren't doing anything."

"I'm sure," he answered. "I was just about to call for a pizza. Why don't you come back to my place? You haven't seen it yet and we'll get that pizza. I'll take you home later, if you like." At Evan's agreement, he sped back to the city and was shortly leading him into his new condo. "You're turning blue," he commented as Evan stared, open-mouthed, at the luxurious appointments of the place. "Go take a hot shower and I'll throw your wet stuff into the dryer."

He bore a protesting Evan off to the bathroom and stood sternly glaring at him as he stripped off his wet clothes. "Everything," he ordered as Evan hesitated when he reached his briefs.

This was stupid, Evan thought as he reluctantly peeled off his underwear. He had grown somewhat used to the casual nudity of the locker rooms; getting undressed in front of Randy shouldn't be any different. But it was, he admitted to himself.

Randy managed to suppress a smile at Evan's furious blushes and scooped up his wet clothes. "I'll find something for you to put on while your things are drying," he said. Under other circumstances, he would have made a joke about the other man's modesty, but Evan looked so wretchedly uncomfortable he didn't have the heart to do it.

He was paying for the pizza when Evan emerged from the bathroom. The sight of him, swamped in one of his t-shirts, pulling tight the drawstring of a pair of ridiculously baggy sweatpants, should have made him laugh, but he was completely disarmed. There was something so endearing and, yes, sweet about him that Randy felt a great surge of protective tenderness.

"I'm assuming that you've developed a taste for beer," he said as he handed him a can. "You being at college and all now. So, how are things going for you these days? Really."

"Honestly," Evan said, helping himself to a slice of pizza, "sometimes I think my parents are right and I'm nuts for trying to do this. But then I get into the ring and it doesn't matter if there are twenty people there or two hundred; I know I'm doing what I really want to do. But it is a bit discouraging sometimes. I _know_ I'm pretty good and I know I can get better, but I'm never going to get any bigger and that seems to be all that matters. You get treated differently when you're this size." He went on to tell Randy about the various promoters who insisted that he could never be a draw on his own and paid him less than others on the card, including his most recent experience.

"Don't stand for it!" Randy exclaimed, slamming his beer can down with such force that the liquid foamed out. "Next time one of those assholes tries something like that, look him straight in the eye and tell him so."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Better yet, talk to the old man. He has dirt on just about every promoter in North America," Randy laughed.

"It's tempting," Evan admitted.

"Seriously, you should talk to him. He can give you far better advice on this than I could. After all," he added, a slightly bitter note entering his voice, "I've had it easy. Everything has been handed to me."

"That's bullshit!" Evan exploded. "Who says that?"

"Almost everyone in the locker room."

"That's total crap! Sure, your father helped you get your foot in the door, but you've worked fucking hard for everything since then. Don't listen to them, Randy. They're just jealous because you're young and successful and gorgeous and-" He stopped abruptly.

"Keep going," Randy grinned. "I'm gorgeous and what? Talented? Kind-hearted? Intelligent? I know! Modest!"

"Well, you are! All of those things. Except for the modest part," he retorted with an answering grin.

Randy laughed at Evan's indignant, flushed face. "It's nice to know I have at least one defender. When are you going to let me put in a word for you with Vince?"

"I still have another year of college. I'm not ready yet."

"I think you are, but we'll put that on hold for another year." He picked up the pizza box and carried it to the kitchen. "Do you have to get home tonight?" he asked on his return to the living room. "Why don't you crash here? We can have a couple more drinks and relax."

He watched indulgently as Evan called his parents to let them know he would not be home that night. He was so serious and earnest and still strangely unspoiled in spite of his four years in the business and time at college. He found himself envious; he had lived hard for the past few years, but the one-night stands, drinking and drugging had begun to pall; the search for a bigger thrill or greater high had lost its appeal. He had settled down considerably, started saving his money, buying a place and concentrating on his ring-work. His father had laughed when he told him and said that he knew he needed a few years to get it out of his system.

He wondered how Evan managed to stay so focussed and grounded and sitting on the couch next to him asked, "I know you're pretty busy with school or on the road, but I was wondering… Have you met anyone? Serious, I mean."

"No," he answered slowly. "I don't really have time for that sort of thing right now and, of course, I have to be very careful. And you were right about the road; it's far too risky. Anyway," he added, "I got burnt pretty badly a couple of years ago."

Randy was surprised by the sudden surge of anger he felt. "How? Who was it?"

"Nobody you'd know," Evan hurried to reply. "It was a guy at school. He was a rich-kid, fine arts major. He was absolutely fascinated by the idea I was trying to be a wrestler. He was terribly disappointed when he found out my parents were school teachers. I guess he was hoping I'd grown up in a seedy trailer park somewhere. I wasn't interested in being someone's blue-collar piece of rough trade."

"Jesus!" Randy exclaimed. "What an asshole!"

"Yeah," Evan sighed. "He was, but it made me a lot more careful. Still, I can't exactly blame him. There are still a lot of stereotypes attached to this business. Look at all the gossip about _you_."

"Unfortunately, most of it's true." Randy said with a rueful smile.

"Some of it, maybe," Evan protested, "but a lot of it is exaggerated or just plain lies. There aren't enough nights in the week for you to have been with half the women they say. And you're not like that, anyway."

"I hate to destroy your faith in me, but I am," Randy said, "or I was. I cut out most of that stuff about a year ago. It started getting entirely too depressing. I haven't been a saint since then," he insisted, "but I decided I'd rather wait."

"For what?"

"The real thing. My old man can be a real bastard sometimes and I'm pretty sure he wasn't always a good husband, but he and my mom have been together a long time. He adores her. I remember about a year ago all three of us were home on their anniversary. I wanted us to take them out to dinner, but my mom insisted on cooking his favourite meal. By the end of the night, you could tell that they couldn't wait for us to leave, so they could be alone together. After all those years…" He shook his head in disbelief. "It sounds corny as hell, but that's what I want and I'll wait as long as I have to for it."

"It's not corny at all," Evan said quietly. "It's beautiful and I hope you find it."

They chatted idly for another hour until Evan started yawning hugely and Randy found him a pillow and blanket. He turned off the lights and was about to go into his bedroom when he heard Evan calling his name softly. "Randy," he said, "Thank you. Not just for picking me up, but for everything: the pizza, the bed for the night, for listening."

"My pleasure," he replied as he left the room.

XXXXX

Randy woke at about 7:30 the following morning to see that it had stopped raining and showed every sign of being a beautiful spring day. He showered quickly and made a couple of phone calls before leaving the bedroom. Evan was still sleeping when he went into the kitchen to make coffee. He had thrown off the blanket at some point during the night and lay on his stomach. Randy's sweatpants had ridden below his hips and he could see, just visible over the waistband, two dimples at the base of Evan's back.

So suddenly that he almost dropped his mug, he wondered what it would be like to press his lips against those intriguing little indentations. If asked, up until that moment, Randy would have admitted to a deep fondness for the other man. If further pressed, he might have confessed to an occasional twinge of attraction, always firmly dismissed on account of his youth. His past had included a few men; the hedonist in him would not allow him to deny himself any possible source of pleasure, but that had not included cradle-robbing or taking advantage of Evan's obvious hero-worship.

But Evan was no longer a boy.

He padded silently over to the couch, placing his mug on the end table and began to bend forward just as Evan stirred and stretched. "Good morning," he said, abruptly returning to his senses, "I've made coffee, but if you want anything more exciting than cereal for breakfast, we'll have to go out."

Evan yawned and rubbed his eyes, smiling sleepily at Randy as he fumbled for his glasses. "Coffee would be great," he said, "but then I should get moving."

"I put your dry clothes in the bathroom. There should be a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Help yourself."

As Evan disappeared into the bathroom, Randy sat down, slowly sipping his coffee, puzzled by the sudden turn his thoughts had taken. Maybe he needed a steady girlfriend. When he got back from Europe he'd look up that pretty dark-haired girl he'd met a few weeks ago, a friend of a friend of his sister. Becky had mentioned that her home life was difficult; her father was a drinker and it had made her mother bitter and hard. He seemed to remember that she was bright, with a good sense of humour and hadn't been terribly impressed by his fame. Satisfied that this temporary insanity had passed, he went back to the kitchen and poured a coffee for Evan.

Swigging it gratefully, Evan said, "I guess I'm going to have to figure out some way to get my car off the side of the road."

"It's already taken care of. I called a tow-truck first thing this morning. They're taking it to a garage near here."

"Oh," he replied, looking troubled, "I only have about sixty dollars on me. Do you think that'll be enough to cover it?"

"Don't worry about it," Randy lied smoothly. "The tow-truck guy is an old buddy of mine. He's doing it as a favour to me."

"Really?" Evan asked doubtfully.

"Really. Anyway, don't you think it's time you got rid of that rust bucket?"

"I wish I could," he said, "but I can't afford anything else right now."

"I suppose not. Look," Randy said, "I'm going to be in Europe for the next couple of weeks. Why don't you use my car while I'm gone? Now don't get all proud and stubborn on me. It would be a lot more reliable than your car and you don't even have to worry about getting it banged up. I'm getting a new one as soon as I get back."

It took some persuading, but Evan finally agreed. Randy was taking delivery of a new car after the European tour and he determined that, somehow, he would find a way to convince Evan to keep the old one. Finding himself strangely unwilling to let Evan go his way, Randy dragged him to a nearby restaurant for breakfast. "Your car should be at the garage down the road in a couple of hours," he said as they tucked into their eggs. "Why don't we hang around for a bit and go check on it later?"

They wandered through an open-air farmers' market, enjoying the warm spring morning, watching people unhurriedly selecting produce and fresh flowers from the stalls. "Sometimes I envy these people," Randy said. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live like this: work nine to five, go home to the family, take the kids to baseball practice; that kind of thing."

"Really?" Evan asked in surprise. "You mean the white picket fence deal?"

"Don't forget, my dad was on the road all the time. My mother did her best, but we never really had a normal family life. I guess you wonder about what you never had."

"Well, _I_ did have it," he replied. "I know now that I've been incredibly lucky, but I think you would get bored with it fairly quickly." Actually, he wasn't so sure. He thought about Randy's words the night before; Randy yearned for a more conventional existence: a wife and kids and the home-life he had never enjoyed. And that, he realised, was the tragedy of Randy's life because even if he were to obtain it, it would never be enough. There was nothing conventional about Randy; no matter what lifestyle he adopted, he would always feel both starved and smothered.

"You're probably right," he grinned. "I've probably watched too many 'Leave it to Beaver' reruns. Let's go to the garage and get the verdict on your car."

Evan was surprised to learn that the repairs would cost considerably less than he had been dreading, but the parts wouldn't be available for a couple of days. Carefully hiding his self-satisfied smile, Randy wandered back onto the street while Evan settled up with the mechanic and retrieved his bag, to be accosted by a kid selling home-made jewellery. He selected a couple of items to get rid of him and handed him a ten dollar bill just as Evan reappeared.

"Looks like you're going to have to borrow my car," he said, fishing his keys out of his pocket and removing the car key, which he threaded onto the key-ring he had just bought. "We'll go back to my place and I'll find the papers," he added, handing the key to Evan.

Silencing Evan's renewed exclamations of gratitude; he led him back to his place and spent a good twenty minutes rummaging through drawers and boxes in his closet before walking back into the living room, rolling his eyes with disgust. "Would you believe that I just remembered they're all in the glove box?" he asked, stopping short at the sight that greeted him.

Evan was sitting on an ottoman, bending over to retie his shoe. His t-shirt had ridden up and, as he bent, the waistband of his jeans gapped enough to reveal those two cute little dimples that had caught his attention that morning. His mouth filled with saliva and, somewhere, as clear and insistent as a trumpet call, he heard the words: "this one" and he knew what he had been waiting for. He moved silently to stand behind him, staring down at the tender flesh of the nape of his neck. His hair was a little longer than he customarily wore it; Randy suspected that he'd had neither the time nor the money for a haircut and tiny dark curls brushed against his fair skin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace he had bought that morning. It was nothing more than a black cord with a few beads strung on it and he tied it around Evan's neck, his fingertips tingling as they touched his soft skin.

Evan turned his head slowly to see Randy gazing at him, his normally icy grey eyes softened to a glowing blue and jumped away as if he had been burned. "Randy, please don't tease me like that," he mumbled, taking several backward steps.

"Tease you? I've never been more serious in my life."

"Just stop it!" he cried. "I'll admit it: I've always wanted you, from the moment we met, I never bothered to hide it because I thought we were friends. I thought we were good enough friends that you'd never make fun of me because of it." He fumbled with the knot Randy had just tied, succeeding in unfastening it and threw the necklace at him. "I'm not stupid, you know," he shouted. "I know that the tow-truck wasn't free and I know that you already paid for most of my car repairs. I didn't say anything because I thought you were just trying to be nice and spare my pride." He pulled the key-ring from his pocket and dropped it on the table with a few bills. "If that's the price of borrowing your car, I'll take the bus. There's thirty dollars there. I'll get the rest for you in a day or two." He picked up his bag and walked to the door to find Randy blocking his way.

"Evan!" he shouted, taking hold of his upper arms. "Just calm down for a minute and let me speak." He could not repress a smile at the sight of Evan, scowling and flushed with rage.

"Stop grinning at me," he yelled, wrenching away from Randy's grasp. "It's not funny!"

"No," Randy said quietly, "it's not. Obviously, I've gone about this all wrong. Will you sit down for a minute and hear me out? Don't you think you owe me at least that much?"

Still frowning, Evan perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair as Randy took a seat opposite him. "I'm not going to be another notch on your belt," he said sullenly. "Just because I said that I didn't believe all the gossip about you, doesn't mean that I don't know that a lot of it is true."

"I've already admitted that to you," Randy replied, "but have I ever given you any reason to believe that I would toy with _you_? Is your opinion of me that low?" he asked, surprised by the hurt he felt.

"What am I supposed to think?" Evan replied. "For four years now, you've treated me like a kid brother and now, out of the blue, _this_."

"You were seventeen when we met; a kid. I did think about you like this occasionally, but you were way too young. If this was all I wanted, I could have gotten it from you anytime. Couldn't I?"

"Yes," he muttered, staring at the floor.

"Then would you please take back the car key and your cash? There are no strings attached, I swear."

"I know," Evan acknowledged. "I shouldn't have said that and I'm sorry. But why now?"

"Do you remember what I said last night?" he asked leaning forward to take Evan's hand. "How I was waiting for the real thing? Just now I realised what I was waiting for and it's you."

"Half an hour ago you were mooning for a wife and 2.5 kids and a house in the suburbs with a station wagon on the driveway," Evan said, snatching his hand away.

"I know," he admitted, "and part of me will probably always want that, but you were right: I'm not really cut out for that life."

"Even if what you say is true, it's impossible. Never mind the travelling and the fact that we're both in the city at the same time for maybe two days a month; there's your career," Evan said. "And mine, too. If word ever got out, it would destroy both of us. You're on the verge of becoming one of the biggest stars in the history of the business. You could be another Stone Cold or Rock. You're still young enough you could even reach the level of Hogan or Flair."

"But no one would think anything if we were seen together," he persisted. "People know we're old friends and, like you said, we're hardly ever in town at the same time and that won't change until you're finished college next year. No one would ever have any reason to suspect. Please," he continued, "just think about it. I've been waiting for you for years and I'll keep on waiting, for as long as necessary."

Evan sat silently for a long time, twisting his hands in his lap, as Randy waited anxiously for his answer. Finally, he rose from his seat and came to stand before Randy, taking his face between his hands and softly saying, "I've waited four years, wondering if you would ever see me. I don't want to wait anymore."

XXXXX

Evan had stayed for the rest of the day and the following night. They had reluctantly parted the next morning, Randy's car key tucked in Evan's pocket. Although they had made no firm plans for a future meeting, both were serenely confident that there was no obstacle that they could not overcome. How simple and sure things had seemed, Randy mused as he dressed for a show. He remembered tying that silly little cord around his neck just before he left, murmuring, "Keep this and remember, no matter where you are, no matter where I am, I'll always be waiting for you to come back to me."

Their first encounter had been awkward and fumbling and, for Evan, painful, but during those first hours they had slowly learned to give and take pleasure, to climb together and hold back, and to climb again until they were shaking with need, to explore each other with their fingers and lips, seeking and finding their most sensitive spots and discovering, in each other, a transfiguring joy that would illuminate his memories of that day for the rest of his life.

He remembered fighting sleep that night, unwilling to relinquish a single moment, Evan nestled softly against his heart, listening to his deep, slow breathing and waking to see Evan watching him, a heart-melting smile on his face, and knew he had never been happier. Their meetings had been scarce, sometimes no more than a few stolen hours or a single night, but they had been able to snatch four days the following summer and had gone camping. They had made love under the stars the first night and spent the next three days shivering in their tent as it poured with rain, eating raw hot dogs and baked beans straight from the tins, unable to keep a fire going long enough to heat them up. He wouldn't have traded those days for a month in the world's finest resort. He remembered the night he had whisked Evan away from the university to celebrate his up-coming graduation with a magnum of champagne in a hotel suite near the campus, smiling at the recollection of Evan dissolving into helpless giggles as he became tipsy from the unaccustomed quantities of wine.

"Hey," said a soft voice behind him. He looked up into the mirror to see Evan grinning at him. "Shouldn't you be oiling yourself up instead of staring into space?" he laughed. "You're not nearly shiny enough yet."

Randy leapt up and caught him in his arms. "Why don't you help me?" he whispered, brushing his lips against Evan's ear.

"Tempting as that is, I don't think you'd be in any fit state to wrestle by the time I was finished," he said with an impish grin, "but I'll be waiting for you later, by your car."

"Why don't you go talk to the bookers and the road agents? You must have some idea when you're coming back by now."

"Not really," Evan replied, his expression growing troubled, "but I should know something soon."

"It's about time," Randy complained. "We can't go on like this much longer."

"No, we can't," he sighed.

"And then there's what we were talking about when-"

"Randy," he interrupted, "could we not talk about that right now? I don't have much time right now and I don't know when I'll be able to come again. Let's not spoil what time we have."

"All right," he said, brushing his knuckles against Evan's cheek, "but you'll be waiting for me later? Promise?"

"You know I will," he murmured, reaching up to kiss him. "I'll see you soon," he said as he slipped from the room.

True to his word, he was waiting by the car when Randy left the arena, but refused to stop for a bite on the way back to the hotel. "I'd rather not," he said. "Chances are half the company will be wherever we stop and I don't really feel like being around them. It could be kind of awkward."

"You're probably right," Randy agreed. Since the accident, apart from a few carefully worded inquiries about his health, everyone avoided mentioning it. The sight of him and Evan together would start a whirlwind of gossip and speculation. "But you must have spoken to some of the guys backstage tonight," he said as Evan followed him to his room.

"I saw plenty of them, but you know what it's like backstage: there's not really any chance for a proper conversation. Anyway," he added as the door closed behind them, "let's not waste our time together talking about the rest of the guys."

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," he laughed, pulling Evan into his arms.

XXXXX

Sam moved quietly down the hall to the guest bedroom. Randy had come home that morning in good spirits, taking Alanna to the park and coming home covered with sand, laughing that she had dumped about twenty buckets over him. "I have sand in all sorts of uncomfortable places," he said as he stripped down to enter the shower.

"Alanna's napping right now," she said. "Would you like me to wash your back?"

"Um – no thanks," he answered, kissing her quickly, "I have a few things I need to do this afternoon."

She had carefully concealed her disappointment, but, later that day, she could hear Randy attempting to get in touch with Evan again. This couldn't go on much longer. She knew that she would have to force a confrontation soon. Randy was still complaining of sleeplessness and insisted on sleeping in the guest room. She could see the light on from underneath the door and slipped inside to find Randy staring dully into space.

"Randy," she said, sitting on the bed and trying to put her arms around him, "I know you miss him, but I'm here. I love you and Alanna loves you. Why can't that be enough?"

He pushed her away gently and stared into space. "Just leave me alone."

XXXXX

_Two years _earlier

Randy blinked with surprise at the sight of the dining room table, beautifully set for two with their best china, crystal and silver. He had arrived home late Tuesday afternoon to find a note from Sam on the kitchen counter, saying that she was dropping Alanna off at his parents' house and, with a sick thud in his stomach, realised what she was trying to do.

He fished a box from Cartier out of his pocket and dropped it next to her plate, but refusing to acknowledge the guilt that spurred its purchase, he chose to focus on his annoyance that Sam had deprived him of even a few hours with his daughter. By the time she let herself in an hour later, he had worked himself into a state of wounded rage.

"Why did you take her away?' he asked in accusing tones. "You know I was looking forward to seeing her."

"Your dad will bring her back first thing tomorrow morning," she replied, trying to placate him. "It's been ages since we've had any time alone together."

"But I wanted to see her," he said stubbornly.

But not me, she thought. Determined to remain calm and cheerful she continued, "And you will, tomorrow morning. Why don't you go have a drink and relax for an hour while I finish the supper? I've made your favourite."

There was no mistaking the hurt in her eyes and Randy felt momentarily ashamed. Sam had obviously been to the hairdresser that day and she was wearing a new dress. She looked better and happier than she had since Alanna's birth. He forced himself to smile at her. "I will," he said, "and I'll grab a quick shower. I was too beat last night and didn't have time this morning. I don't want to stink out the dining room."

"You do that," she smiled. And wash off that perfume, she thought.

He joined her in the dining room an hour later, showered, changed and freshly shaven, grimly determined to play out the farce to its logical conclusion. Sam smiled and thanked him quietly for the platinum watch and allowed him to fasten it around her wrist, carefully keeping the conversation light until she had cleared away the dessert plates and poured them both a large brandy.

"I guess you're thinking that all of this," she said, waving her hand to encompass the scene, "is part of some plan to seduce you."

"Isn't it?"

"No, but I want to talk to you about something."

"That sounds strangely ominous," he said, trying to inject some humour into the situation. "Have you fallen in love with the mailman?"

"Please," she begged. "I'm serious. Just listen to me." Randy sat back and sipped his drink, watching her with narrowed eyes as she continued. "Do you remember what we talked about when we first started dating?"

"We talked about lots of things."

"You know what I mean," she snapped.

Randy had the grace to look embarrassed and nodded. "What about it?"

"I – I understand that you might get lonely on the road and I know more now about the temptations you warned me about."

"What are you trying to say? Do you want to start travelling with me?"

"No, or at least not right now. Maybe when Alanna's a little older we could come with you occasionally, but for now…" She took several nervous swallows of her drink and took a deep breath. "You know I want you to be happy, don't you?"

"Yes," he answered, his expression softening as he reached out to take her hand, "and you and Alanna both make me very happy."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she said, "but you're not happy. I can tell. And what you're doing on the road isn't making you happy either." She stared at Randy challengingly; he looked away first. "I know I haven't been much fun to come home to lately, but I think I'd feel a lot better if you weren't so unhappy. Do you remember New Year's Day at your parents' before we got engaged? Do you know what I remember? You were laughing and excited; your face lit up when you spotted Evan. I'd like to see you smiling like that again."

"What exactly are you saying?" Randy asked quietly.

"That it would make me feel better to know that you weren't so – restless when you're on the road; that you were happy and smiling like I saw you that day."

She picked up their glasses and carried them to the kitchen. Randy followed her, to find her standing over the sink, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He gently turned her around and gathered her into his arms. "You know I _do_ love you, don't you?" he murmured. "You and Alanna, both."

She nodded as he softly thumbed her tears away. And I love you, she thought; more than you'll ever know.

XXXXX

Evan wandered restlessly around his small condo in Tampa. It wasn't anything special, but it had a nice view of the bay and he was proud of the job he had done fixing it up. As he fussed about in the kitchen, he told himself that he was being ridiculous: he wasn't a teenager waiting for his first date. It was only natural, really only to be expected that Randy would want to drop by. The company was on loop throughout Florida, with a show in Tampa Bay. Of course Randy should have called him and suggested that they get together while he was in town.

But the Tampa show wasn't until tomorrow and Randy had flown out a day early.

Finally, his phone rang and he told the doorman to send him up. He waited apprehensively by the door, jingling his keys in his pocket. He still carried the key-ring Randy had given him several years earlier, but the necklace cord had grown frayed and he had reluctantly stopped wearing it. Anyway, he had told himself, it wasn't right to keep wearing a symbol of a promise that had been broken years earlier.

He could still remember when he realised that Randy's feelings for Sam were deeper than even he understood. Randy had admitted that he was dating a girl, but had insisted that it was very casual, more for appearances than anything and he had forced himself to believe him, but when it became clear that Randy still yearned for a home and a family, he had made the hardest decision of his life and ended it. But now, with Sam's insane suggestion and Bob's odd comment whirling in his head, he didn't know what to do.

When he opened the door, however, and saw Randy smiling nervously, his hands jammed in his pockets, all his questions and doubts were swept aside and he invited him in, powerless against the rising tide of certainty that his place was at this man's side. He laughed at Randy's obvious surprise at the sleek modern furniture and expensive electronic gadgets.

"Were you expecting something like my old room at home with posters on the walls and trophies on the shelves? Maybe a Wii in the middle of the living room and a mountain of pizza boxes?"

"Actually, yes," he admitted ruefully. "You still don't look much older than when we first met."

"I'll tell you a secret," Evan grinned. "I have a picture in the closet that gets older every day." As Randy took a seat on the couch and watched him expectantly, he continued to chatter nervously. "If you don't mind, I thought we might eat here tonight. I don't know about you, but I get awfully tired of restaurants and fast food on the road. I'm not a fantastic cook or anything, but-" He stopped suddenly as his eyes locked with Randy's. To cover his confusion, he asked, "So do you want a drink?"

"No."

"Coffee? Water? Or how about a beer? I bought a six-pack after you called. You know I'm not much of a drinker, but I got you some beer. I'll just go to the kitchen and get you a beer," he said, the words tumbling out as he fought to catch his breath and remain calm.

Randy caught his wrist and pulled him back down on the couch. "Evan, would you just shut up for a minute and sit still. I don't want a coffee or some water or a beer." His voice dropped to a low rumble that sent a shiver up Evan's spine. "You know what I want, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well then…"

"Then what?" Evan exclaimed. "Nothing's changed; you're still a married man," he said, fighting for time, even as he knew his arguments were futile. "I – I don't want to hurt Sam."

"It couldn't possibly hurt her more than my behaviour of the past months."

"And that's another thing," he cried. "How could you? Some of those women… That girl in Charleston was positively rancid. Even the ring crew wouldn't touch her."

"That girl was a runaway whose daddy loved her way too much," Randy said quietly, remembering the pathetic, bedraggled girl who had wept when he gently took her and proudly refused anything above cab fare when she left.

"Or that guy in Boston? Jesus! I was embarrassed for you."

"I'd been drinking," Randy said, flushing uncomfortably at that particular memory.

"You've been nailing anything that moves for the last seven or eight months. For all I know, you've picked up herpes or VD or crabs or worse."

"Would it make you feel better if you knew that I always used a condom?" he asked. "Because I did. I swear I never got that drunk and I had to take a physical for the company last month. They drew about a quart of blood and tested me for everything under the sun. So I don't have AIDS or syphilis or anything like that; not even pubic lice," he finished with a grin.

"Then you're damn lucky," Evan retorted, "considering some of your choices."

"Now just hang on a minute!" Randy replied, his voice rising. "Don't try and tell me that you've been some sort of choirboy for the last couple of years because I won't believe it. And how dare you imply that I'd put my wife or child at risk by going home with something like that? Or that I'd come to you without knowing it was safe?"

"You're right," Evan said, his voice softening, "you wouldn't. I had no right to say that. And I haven't exactly been a choirboy either. Nothing much," he hurried to add, "and only a couple of times. I didn't want to get involved with anyone in the company and _somebody_ scared me off wrestling groupies when I was a teenager."

The corner of Randy's mouth twitched slightly at that statement. "I guess you're thinking it's too bad that I don't take my own advice."

"Something like that," he replied.

"I know I'm spoiled and selfish," Randy sighed, "but you sent me away and Sam…" His voice trailed off, "She's been miserable since the baby was born."

"And fucking around and spending thousands on guilt presents is supposed to make her feel better?' Evan asked sarcastically. Randy _was_ spoiled and selfish, but Evan knew he was fighting a losing battle. Determined to put some distance between them, he jumped up from the couch, saying, "I have some stuff I have to do in the kitchen."

Randy followed him and leaned in the doorway watching him work. "When did you take up cooking?" he asked. "I seem to remember that you couldn't even make hot dogs."

"Since I got my own place," he replied, scowling over his glasses at the open cookbook on the counter. "Like I said, I get tired of eating out, so I decided to learn how to make a few things. Of course, I had a couple of disasters at first," he grinned, "but I don't do too badly now." He handed Randy some utensils and told him to go set the table, bringing out two plates of food a few minutes later.

"This is really good," Randy said as he attacked his food. "You know Sam made a three-course meal with wine and candles when I got home last week."

"You must have enjoyed that," Evan said quietly.

"I thought she was trying to get me into bed."

"Well, why shouldn't she? She's your wife."

Randy put down his knife and fork and pushed his empty plate away. "She wanted to talk. She said she knew I wasn't happy." His eyes bored into Evan's face. "Dammit!" he burst out. "Are you going to make me spell it out?"

"No," Evan muttered, staring at his plate. "She said the same thing to me."

"Well then…" he said, echoing his earlier comment.

"What is it with you people?" he exclaimed. "Sam thinks you'd be happier; you think you'd be happier. Even your father thinks you'd be happier. Who's next? Will Vince be calling me, telling me to start up with you again so you can be happy? What about me?" he cried. "Don't my feelings count? It just about killed me to let you go before. How dare you all assume that I'm just sitting around waiting for you to come back to me?"

"Because you still love me!" Randy shouted/

"Of course I do!" he yelled back. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"Then why are we shouting at each other?"

"Because I love you so much I can't stand it!"

"And I love you, too" he roared.

They glared at each other across the table, until, realising the absurdity of their words, they both burst out laughing. "This has got to be the dumbest conversation in history," Randy said as he recovered himself. "Why don't we go for a walk and cool down?"

"No," Evan said, standing up. "That has to be the stupidest suggestion ever made."

"Why?"

"Because then we'd waste at least an hour and I can't wait a minute longer."

XXXXX

Randy followed Evan into the bedroom, staying his hand when he attempted to turn off the light. "Oh no you don't," he said. "I've waited too long for this. I want to be able to see you." He firmly shut out all memory of recent encounters where he had insisted on total darkness and complete silence. Drawing Evan into his arms, he bent his head to brush soft kisses on his cheeks, eyelids and brow before seeking his mouth.

He responded eagerly, pressing himself against Randy and opening his mouth to receive his kisses. Randy began to press a series of tiny kisses along his jaw line, starting at his ear lobe and moving down until he reached the corner of his mouth before turning his attention to the other side. Over and over again, he brushed his lips along Evan's jaw, occasionally dipping his head lower to nip at the tender flesh of his neck, cradling Evan in his arms as he sighed and squirmed with delight. He buried his face in the crook of Evan's neck. "God, I missed you. I'll never let you get away from me again," he whispered fiercely. "Never."

Evan's arms tightened around him as he swallowed convulsively. There could be no happy ending for them; that he knew for certain. One day Randy would have to make a choice; one day Sam would refuse to share her husband any longer and, when that day came, he knew Randy would not be able to turn away from his home and child. They could never have more than these snatched meetings and stolen hours. But at this moment his was in Randy's arms, Randy's kisses making him his own as surely as if he had branded him with a red-hot iron.

He broke away and tugged at Randy's shirt, freeing it from the waistband of his jeans. With a sudden motion, he tore his shirt open causing several buttons to pop off and pressed his mouth against Randy's neck just where the edge of his tattoo could be seen. He began a leisurely exploration of his torso, his lips tracing delicate patterns across his smooth flesh, fingers seeking the ridges and contours of his exquisitely modelled chest. Evan sank to his knees, tugging down Randy's jeans and shorts.

He sprang forth, pale against his tanned flesh, already twitching and throbbing as Evan's tongue reached out to lap at the tiny bead of moisture at the tip. Evan's mouth closed smoothly around him and, in a single movement, he swallowed him to the hilt. Randy's eyes flew open in surprise. "I thought you said you hadn't been up to anything much these past couple of years."

"I also said that I hadn't been a choirboy," he retorted, pushing Randy back onto the bed. "And I had lots of time to think about it." Impatiently stripping off his own clothes, he climbed onto the bed and took him into his mouth again, his lips and tongue teasing him with a skill that both amazed and saddened him. When had Evan learned these things and from whom? He felt a sudden spurt of jealously, remembering Evan's shy caresses and awkward responses from before. They had wasted so much time and lost so much that they should have discovered together.

Pulling away carefully, Randy gently, but firmly, turned Evan onto his stomach and delicately scratched his nails down his back, smiling when he arched and sighed. "You always did like that," he chuckled as he covered his body with his own and began to trail kisses along his spine until he reached the little dimples at the base. "These," he said, his tongue flickering out to tease them, "have always driven me crazy." He nudged Evan's legs open and, kneeling between them, gently parted his cheeks. He ran his tongue along the length of Evan's crease, lapping slowly at his puckered opening. With long, slow strokes of his tongue, he loved Evan as intimately as possible for many minutes until the other man was groaning and thrusting his hips into the bed.

He had waited for years, Randy thought. Waited for Evan to become a man and waited for him to come back, foolishly seeking solace in empty encounters with strangers or oblivion in a bottle. For two years he had waited to hold Evan in his arms again and now, he could wait no longer.

Nor could Evan. He rummaged in a night table drawer until he found a small bottle of lube and wordlessly handed it to Randy, who poured a generous quantity between Evan's cheeks and, oiling his fingers carefully, gently pressed two inside. He could hear Evan's sudden intake of breath and knew that he was hurting him, but when he leaned forward, murmuring, "I'll be as careful as I can," Evan began to move his hips in time with Randy's fingers, gasping as he brushed against his centre.

Finally, Randy allowed him to turn over. Evan reached into the drawer and pulled out a condom, handing it to him. Randy took it without question, realising that Evan's trust in him was no longer complete. Remembering the youth, who had given himself without hesitation, he felt a pang of regret and knew Evan would never regard him with the same unquestioning faith again. He smoothed on the condom and took up the lube, pouring it over himself.

Evan straddled him and rose on his knees, taking firm grasp of Randy and sinking down slowly, until his heat completely surrounded him. The sensation of Evan's tight warmth was almost too much for Randy. Gritting his teeth to maintain control, he wrapped his hand around Evan's shaft and moved it in time with his rhythmic thrusts. The sight of Evan, his head thrown back, his faced flushed with passion, almost undid him, especially when he drew up his knees and Evan leaned back against his thighs. He could see where they were joined and watch himself slide in and out of Evan's body. His driving thrusts grew faster and fiercer as he moved up the bed, never breaking their contact, until he was sitting up, his back resting against the headboard.

Randy wrapped his free arm around Evan, gathering him close to his chest, and buried his face in his neck, strafing his soft flesh with his teeth, as he throbbed and pulsed and spilled over Randy's hand. And Randy, with a hoarse cry, sought Evan's mouth and surrendered himself completely, crushing the other man to his heart.

They remained locked in each others' arms as their heartbeats subsided and their breathing returned to normal. Randy carefully pulled away and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean himself. Returning with a wet cloth, he gently sponged Evan's shaft and belly and climbed into the bed, drawing Evan into his arms and stroking his dark hair. "I missed you so much," he whispered.

"And I missed you," Evan said in return.

"Promise you'll never leave me again."

"I'll wait for you, always," he said softly. "As long as you want me to."

They spent the rest of the night in joyous rediscovery of one another; sometimes with rough, urgent caresses and sometimes with tender, searching kisses and, as the sun rose, they fell asleep, wrapped in each others' arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Their reunion had been bittersweet. Their delight in each other was unchanged, their love unquestioned, but they had both altered. Evan's face could still split with the same boyish grin, his eyes would still sparkle with excitement, but sometimes Randy could sense a certain weariness in his expression, as if his boundless enthusiasm was being slowly leached away, a hint of resignation in his attitude and a faint sadness in his eyes. And Randy, always impatient and selfish, had, over the past two years, become even more autocratic and demanding until the resentment and jealousy in the locker rooms and backstage had crossed over to outright dislike on the part of many that increased almost daily.

Although they were as discreet as possible, word of their liaison inevitably leaked out and Evan found himself the butt of many whispered slurs and ribs that could not be considered mere practical jokes. He was used to being well-liked and respected for his ability and the hostility of certain members of the company hurt. Things came to a head when he opened his bag before a house-show to discover that everything in it had been ruined: several quarts of oil had been dumped over all his possessions.

"Oh dear!" someone exclaimed in mock sympathy. "Randy must have leaked all over your stuff."

He said nothing and told the road agent he couldn't appear because he had forgotten his gear and accepted a heavy fine without protest. Randy's fury on learning of this, however, paled in comparison to his own when he heard that the culprits had been suspended and, in one case, terminated.

"Keep out of my business from now on!" he shouted at him in their hotel room that night. "Don't you see you've only made things worse? If we just ignore it, they'll find something else to talk about sooner or later."

Evan was right, Randy knew, but his heart ached for him as he paid the price for their relationship. Eventually, things settled down to an occasional snide comment and Evan found himself fending off well-meaning advice from a number of surprising sources.

"Waiting for anyone, kid?"

He was sitting in the crowded hotel bar late Friday night of Wrestlemania weekend and looked up in astonishment to see Ric Flair standing over him. Dumbstruck, he shook his head as the legend took a seat. Flair would be wrestling his final WWE match in two days and was to be inducted into the Hall of Fame tomorrow night. He couldn't recall having exchanged more than a dozen words with the other man.

"How are you enjoying Wrestlemania? It's nuts, isn't it?" he said, answering his own question.

"To put it mildly," he replied, "but it's incredibly exciting. I'm not even on the main card, but I can't wait. I know you've been in dozens of this kind of thing, but-" Suddenly he stopped and turned red. "What I meant was that you've had such a long career that-" He stopped again, covered with embarrassment and confusion. Way to go, he thought. His first and last chance to have a real conversation with the Nature Boy and all he could do was call him old.

Flair laughed good-naturedly. "It's okay and you're right. I'm older than the dinosaurs, but I still get excited. I've wrestled thousands of matches, but there are some you'll never forget and this will be one of them."

"But I've seen you backstage," Evan said. "You always look excited before a show. Bob says that's one of the things that makes a great wrestler. It shouldn't matter whether you're in front of six hundred people or sixty thousand, you treat the match the same. You do that."

"And so do you, according to Bob," he chuckled. "He thinks very highly of you and even that nut-case Piper thinks you're good." Smiling as Evan turned an even deeper red, he continued, "So where's Randy?"

"At some PR thing, I guess."

"And you're sitting here waiting for him like a good boy instead of schmoozing with brass? That's no way to get ahead."

"I try to stay away from the company politics," he replied stiffly.

"And that's why you'll stay on the mid-card," Flair retorted. "You're good, but your size is against you and you'll never get any further if you keep trying to fade into the background. As far as management are concerned, you're a nice kid and a solid worker with a couple of flashy moves and a talent for sucking Randy's cock."

As Evan wondered what they would do to him if he punched the greatest wrestler in the history of the business in the nose, Flair kept speaking. "Listen to me, kid. When I'm gone you can tell yourself that I'm just an old fart who's been kicked in the head too may times, but I've been around a hell of a long time. I don't, for a second, doubt how you two feel about each other and there's no question that you're good for Randy, but he is the worst possible thing for you."

XXXXX

In the months that followed Evan received the same advice from several others, including people who liked and admired Randy like Edge and John Cena. Most disturbing, however, was an oblique warning from Hunter. "You're good and I'd like to move you up the card, but as long as you're with Randy…" He shook his head. "It's too risky." He said nothing more. He knew Randy; there was room for only one star in his relationship. If Evan were to move into main events and gain a fan-base beyond the kids who currently cheered for him, if he were to become a serious professional rival, he suspected that Randy would turn on the younger man and destroy him, but he knew he had no way of making Evan believe this.

He attempted, on one occasion, to explain this to Randy, who exploded with rage. "How can you say that?" he shouted. "I would never grudge Evan his chance! You're just falling in line with Vince's bullshit love for big guys and trying to make me the villain. I would never hold Evan back!"

"Wouldn't you?" he asked calmly. "Who pushed to have him moved to Raw? How would you like to be on different rosters? How would you like for him to have as many demands on his time as you have? He wouldn't be waiting patiently for you after interviews and photo sessions; you might be waiting for him."

"It wouldn't matter!" Randy exclaimed hotly, but, deep-down, he knew it would.

"Listen to me," he said gently as he watched the younger man with genuine compassion in his eyes. "It happened to me once. I wanted this guy so much that I couldn't sleep for six months. I'm pretty sure I could have gotten him, but I knew it would be the worst thing possible for his career. People would think that he was being pushed because he was sleeping with the guy who was married to the boss's daughter and he had too much talent for that. So I never acted on it."

"Who?"

"Isn't it obvious? It was you. I know people think you had an easy ride here. Think how much worse it would be if it had happened. It was hard, very hard, but I wanted what was best for you and for the company."

"I – I never suspected," Randy stammered in shock.

"I know. Think about it. I know how much you love Evan, but do you love him enough to do what's best for him?"

Randy couldn't reply, but as Hunter opened the door, he called after him. "Hunter! You're right," he said softly. "I would have said yes in an instant."

XXXXX

Hunter's words had disturbed Randy more than he liked to admit. As Evan languished in the mid-card, relegated to squash matches, the Superstars taping and a very rare victory on Raw, he realised that he wasn't happy. When they were alone together he was affectionate and cheerful, but occasionally he glimpsed something in his eyes that made him think of a trapped animal. He stubbornly refused to discuss the future, ending every tour loop with a vague promise that they would get together soon. The whispers and comments that followed them wounded him far more deeply than he would say and he became tense and wary around the rest of the company. Randy ached to see him standing quietly, always on the edge of any group, retreating further into himself and, as the weeks passed, he found himself consumed by a bone-chilling certainty that they were doomed.

As Randy's guilt increased and Evan's unhappiness grew daily, he became resentful and, eventually, angry and reacted the only way he knew, starting arguments over insignificant things like which movie they should watch or what radio station should play in their rental car until both existed in a keyed-up state of constant tension that subsided only when they were in each others' arms. Finally, the day came when Evan, who had been forced to miss a week on the road due to a sinus infection, found, on his return, a small box waiting for him.

"What's that?" he asked as he recognised the Rolex logo.

"It's for you," Randy answered, avoiding his eyes. "I – I missed you last week and I was thinking about you when I saw it."

Remembering the velvet boxes in Sam's safe, Evan reeled as if punched in the gut. "It's very nice," he said quietly, allowing Randy to take him into his arms.

He called himself a fool, over and over, but could not bring himself to confront Randy until, six weeks later, he received a pair of gold Dunhill cuff-links. "What's going on?" he asked accusingly. "The last time you spent this kind of cash it was guilt presents for Sam."

Randy sat on the end of the bed and rubbed his face tiredly. Evan could see that he was pale under his tan and had deep circles under his eyes. "Sam just had a miscarriage," he said, his grief apparent.

Evan felt the blood drain from his face. Of course Randy still slept with Sam, but that was something he didn't allow himself to think about. "Oh Randy!" he managed to say, "I'm so sorry. Is she all right?"

"The doctor said it was just one of those things. She'd only told me she was pregnant last week."

Last week, Evan thought, growing cold. Last week he and Randy had slipped away as soon as their matches were over Sunday afternoon and had driven on a golden autumn day to a secluded bed and breakfast in New England. They had walked through the woods, listening to the leaves crunch under their feet and made love in front of the fireplace in their room, so reluctant to leave their idyllic surroundings that they were almost late for that week's Raw telecast. And Randy had done this, had held him in his arms and whispered words of love, knowing all the while that Sam was carrying his child.

Carefully setting aside his own anger for the moment, he asked, "So why are you here? Shouldn't you be at home with her?"

"I wanted to stay at home, but she insisted. My mother is staying with her for a few days."

"How is she? Really?" he asked, remembering her depression after Alanna's birth.

"She's depressed, of course, but my mother says it's no more than normal for this kind of situation."

"Well, she's a nurse. I guess she'd know better than most."

"But she needs a change," Randy said, staring at the floor. "She and Alanna are coming on the road with me next week."

"I see."

"And every week for the next while."

"Then I'll make my own arrangements," he said as he picked up his bag.

"Evan! Wait!" Randy said urgently, crossing the room to stand between him and the door. "Don't leave now. We still have these next few days."

"You really think you can have everything, don't you?" he said, shaking his head. "Well, you can't. And this time, I won't be waiting for you."

XXXXX

Assorted members of the company buzzed and smirked as Randy played the devoted husband and father for the next several months, while Evan grimly attempted to build a life for himself in which Randy was merely a casual acquaintance. On the surface, he succeeded. When someone suggested beer and wings after a show, he joined in; he was present at almost every late-night poker game or midnight swim; he was the first to agree to go to an all-night zombie movie festival or to go bowling at two a.m. or to work out first thing in the morning. People began to joke that there must be two of him: he was everywhere and anywhere and never seemed to rest for an instant.

A few, however, realised what he was trying to do, none more than Randy. When Sam threw him a surprise thirtieth birthday party in Phoenix during Wrestlemania week, Evan breezed in late, kissed her casually on the cheek, handed Randy a gift bag and left, mumbling something about a paint-ball tournament, before the cake was cut. Peering into the bag, Randy saw an all-too-familiar Rolex box and blew out the candles on his cake, feeling eighty, rather than thirty.

By the time Sam stopped travelling with Randy a few weeks later, Evan was surprised and pleased to discover that his relentless socialising had paid dividends, most importantly a couple of friends, whom he sought out now because he enjoyed their company, rather than to fill the empty hours. By the end of May, he had almost convinced himself that Randy Orton was completely out of his system, that he was nothing more than an old friend, whom he wished well.

Then Hunter dropped his bombshell.

"You're putting me in the main event on Raw this week?" he exclaimed. "Did Randy have anything to do with this?"

"It was his idea," Hunter admitted. "You know he hurt his shoulder again."

Evan nodded; everybody knew that. He had wrecked the trainers' room in a fit of rage.

"He won't be able to go in the ring for a week or more and suggested that you take his spot." As Evan began to flush with anger, he continued, "But don't think I only agreed because he asked. I told you before that your relationship was holding you back. This is your chance. Take advantage of it."

XXXXX

Randy watched Evan soar through air as he launched into his Shooting Star Press and scored the pin on Sheamus with a burst of pride. As John swept him into his arms and he celebrated in the ring, bowing deeply to the audience, uncharacteristic tears sprang to his eyes. He looked so happy and barely older than the skinny kid with the wide smile he had watched nine years earlier. He managed to waylay him and dragged him into his dressing room. "Congratulations," he said. "You were great."

Still high from the adrenaline, he bubbled over. "John was fantastic! And Adam and Sheamus; they were terrific!"

"No," Randy insisted, "_you_ were great."

"I owe it to you," he said, calming down. "Thank you."

"All I did was make the suggestion. You did the rest." He pulled him into a rough embrace and brushed his lips against the top of his head. "I was so proud of you," he whispered.

Evan broke away. "Thank you," he repeated shakily as he fled the room.

The following weeks were the happiest of his professional life as he moved to near the top of the card, culminating in a short feud with Chris Jericho. The Canadian treated him with a generosity in the ring that he found breathtaking, drawing from him the best matches he'd had since his days in the independents. When he tried to thank him, he was brushed aside. "It's a pleasure working with you," he said. "You listen and learn. Most of you kids can't be bothered beyond a couple of snazzy moves."

"Now you sound like Bob Orton," Evan grinned.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, "I'm not that old.

"No, you're not," he replied, stunned by the realisation that he was feeling something more than respect and admiration for the other man. He tried to brush the notion aside, but, once or twice, he caught Jericho's eyes on him and began to wonder. At least, he told himself, it proved that his feelings for Randy were a thing of the past, which gave him the confidence to pursue an idea that had come to him when he learned that they were to work together in the next couple of weeks.

He sought Randy out for the first time in months and told him what he had in mind.

"Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully. "It sounds awfully risky."

"I know we can pull it off," he insisted, rubbing his shoulder absently. "It'll bring the house down."

And it did. When Randy executed the RKO while he was still mid-air, the crowd rose screaming to their feet. They made their way backstage grinning smugly as the open-mouthed members of the company surrounded them. Jericho forced his way through and swept Evan into his arms. "That was fantastic! It looked even better than I thought it would. Nice job, Randy," he smirked as he bore Evan off to his dressing room.

Ten minutes later, they heard a loud rap on the door. "I think we have a very pissed-off Viper paying a call," he chuckled. "Who is it?" he called in a shrill falsetto. As the hammering on the door grew more insistent, he opened it a crack. "You can't come in here right now. We're naked. What would people think?"

Randy shoved past him. "Could you give us a minute, please?"

Chris cocked his head to one side as if in thought. "All right," he said, rummaging in his bag. "I have a rape whistle in here somewhere, Evan. If he tries to get fresh, you make sure to use it."

"Out!" Randy shouted as he beat a hasty retreat. Rolling his eyes in disgust, he said, "Christ! What a smartass! And what the hell is so funny?" he thundered as Evan convulsed with laughter.

"You," he gasped, trying to regain control of himself. "If you could see the look on your face when Chris was giving you a hard time." Finally, he calmed down. "So what's so important?"

"You told Chris what we were going to do tonight," he accused.

"So what if I did? It wasn't exactly a state secret."

"No, but I thought it was just between us."

"_Us_!" Evan exclaimed. "There is no _us_. We're co-workers who've known each other a long time."

"Of course, but what's going on between you and Chris?"

"How could that possibly be any of your business?"

"His contract expires this fall. He probably won't re-sign. Like you said, we're old – friends. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

"That's very kind of you," Evan said icily. "I appreciate your consideration and good intentions, but I'm not eighteen any more. You don't have to warn me about the dangers of the big, scary world."

Randy sighed and left the room, while Evan dressed with shaking hands. Randy had some nerve, he thought, wincing as he shouldered his bag. And when Chris suggested that they go for a drink, he agreed. And when one drink became several and he followed Chris back to his room, he told himself fiercely that it had nothing to do with the rumours that Randy was frequenting the jewellery stores again.

XXXXX

Evan's shoulder continued to bother him, but he attempted to shrug it off until Chris pointed out that he was having trouble raising his arm. By the time he was diagnosed with a torn rotator cuff, Chris was gone. Randy had been right; he had not re-signed. Evan missed him and was sorry to see him go, but he could honestly say that his heart was still intact. His push had been swallowed by the Nexus storyline, but it didn't really matter since he was going to be off for several months.

In spite of everything, he still felt a certain loyalty to Randy and, once he had told WWE management of his prognosis, he invited him for a beer and told him. In an instant, all of their difficulties and differences of the past two years vanished as Randy exclaimed, "What doctor are you seeing? You should see the guy I went to for my shoulder. He's one of the best in the country. If it's a matter of expense, you know I'll-"

"Randy, I promise you my doctor is excellent," he interrupted. "But that's very kind of you."

"You're sure?" he asked. "Maybe you should see him anyway; just to get a second opinion. I guess you'll be in Tampa most of the time while you're off."

"Most of the time," he answered, "but I'll probably come back to St Louis a few times and Vince has said he'll get me to do some PR stuff while I'm off."

"That's good," Randy said, "and with any luck, this stupid Nexus business will be done with when you get back."

"To be replaced with something equally stupid," Evan laughed. "But I'm a fine one to talk. If I were in charge of the booking, every Raw would be two solid hours of you standing in the ring, doing that pose. I guess that's why I'm not on the committee."

"As appealing as that sounds, even _I_ will admit that the audience would probably get tired of it after a while." He laughed and signalled for more beer. "But if you get to St Louis, would you go see Sam? She would like to see you again."

"How is she doing?" Evan inquired, asking Randy a personal question for the first time in a year. "She looked great when we were there a couple of weeks ago."

"She lost another baby," he said quietly. "It was – hard. The doctors have suggested that we don't try again for a while. And that bitch of a mother of hers didn't help. She told her it was a probably a good thing; that the babies were probably deformed or something and that's why she lost them. Nature's way of correcting her mistakes, she said. I thought my mother was going to punch her in the nose when she said that."

"Too bad she didn't," Evan said grimly. "I would have. But is Sam okay?"

"She is. She was upset and depressed, of course, but she's doing well. My mom roped her into volunteering at the hospital gift shop two hours a week and your mother got her onto some committee."

"That's good," Evan said, "but what about you? How are you doing? They were your babies, too."

To his horror, Randy felt tears welling in his eyes. Swallowing hard, he answered, "You're the first person to have said that. I know it has to be harder for Sam than for me, but, sometimes I think it could have been another little girl like Alanna or a little boy and they're gone…"

Evan covered his hand with his own, not caring who, in the bar, might see them. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I should have said that when you told me the first time, instead of stomping off in a rage."

"I don't blame you," Randy said, blowing his nose. "I really did think I should be allowed to have everything. But enough about my problems. How have you been since Chris left? Is it finished?"

"It is. I miss him, of course, but my heart isn't broken or anything like that."

"I was so jealous of him I wanted to break his jaw every time I saw him and not for the reason you think."

"Then why?"

"Because he made you laugh; he made you happy and I could never do that."

Evan was about to deny this statement, but he realised that his relationship with Randy was far too complex to be defined by mere happiness. "I was often very happy when I was with you," he said.

"And you were often very unhappy."

"Have you ever read _Wuthering Heights_?"

"Good Lord no!" Randy said, with such vehemence that Evan almost burst out laughing. "I think Sam watched a mini-series version last year. Some pair of doomed lovers flinging themselves around all over the place."

"That's the one," Evan chuckled. "I had to read it in college. There's this part where the girl is talking about the man she loves. She goes on about how her love for him isn't a source of visible pleasure to her, but something absolutely necessary and unchanging."

"Then why didn't she tell everyone to go fuck themselves and marry him? I think I remember he came back richer than God and she dies. Stupid bitch!"

This time Evan did burst out laughing. "Jesus Randy! You should join a book club! I could just see you saying, 'Elizabeth Bennet should have told Miss Bingley to fuck off. Her brother could marry whoever he wanted.' But what I'm trying to say is that whether I was happy or unhappy, I never stopped loving you. It's as much a part of me as my heart or brain and I couldn't exist without it any more than I could live without-"

"Your stomach?"

"Yes."

"Liver?"

"Absolutely."

"Large intestine?"

"Or small."

"Lungs, spleen or pancreas?"

"All three."

"I'm running out of organs," Randy complained.

"Good."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because we're wasting time and I can't wait any longer."

XXXXX

Evan's surgery proceeded without incident and the doctors were optimistic that he would make a good recovery. His mornings were filled with rehab and work-outs as he focussed on keeping as much condition as he could. Randy flew out to Tampa every week or two and Evan chose not to inquire too closely about what excuse he made to Sam. He did, however, resist Randy's suggestion that he visit her until the company was on tour in Europe and Sam called him herself, asking that he drop by when he came to visit his family later that week.

He reluctantly agreed and, on the Friday morning, strolled into the hospital gift shop and plucked a frilly nightgown from the rack. "Excuse me, miss," he grinned, "I have a friend who's having a sex-change operation here. Do you think he'd like this? Of course, he's seven feet tall and weighs three hundred pounds." Anything else he might have said was cut off as she launched herself at him and engulfed him in a fierce hug.

"I'll be done in another ten minutes," she said. "Then you're coming back home with me for lunch."

He followed her home and she let him in the house. "Make yourself comfortable while I run down the street to pick up Alanna. One of the neighbours watches her for me."

Evan looked around the kitchen and living room in surprise. On his last visit, two years ago, the place had looked like a furniture showroom. Now it looked like home: a jumble of boots and shoes by the door, what looked like juice stains on the upholstery and crumbs on the kitchen floor. "We're a bit of a mess," Sam said as she came in with Alanna in her arms, "but we don't care, do we?' she crooned rubbing noses with her daughter.

"No!" she giggled as he mother set her down.

Evan dropped to a squat and stared into Randy's blue eyes and, as the little girl regarded him suspiciously, at Randy's scowl. Suddenly, he understood the need people had to have children, to leave a piece of themselves behind and gained further understanding of Randy's grief over the lost babies. "I know," she grinned. "It's uncanny, isn't it? You should see her when she has a tantrum." She fed Alanna her lunch and bore her, protesting, off for her nap while Evan tried to reconcile his memory of the nervous, desperate woman she had been two years ago with the calm, competent mother, who laughingly wiped spilled juice off the floor, joking that if Randy would let her get a dog, she wouldn't have to waste her time doing this. The dog could just lick it up.

"I'm sure Randy would let you get a dog if you really wanted one."

"Of course he would. Actually, I've never mentioned it. Knowing Randy, he'd either come home with the biggest sloppiest mutt they had at the pound or some yappy little thing I could carry in my purse."

"You're right," he laughed. "There's not much middle ground where Randy's concerned."

They chatted throughout lunch about his shoulder and her volunteer work. "Your mother saved my life," she insisted. "You remember what a wreck I was. She got me out of the house and put me to work. I felt so useless and pathetic; I'll love her forever for that. You're very fortunate to have a family like that."

"I know. The older I get, the more I understand that. But Alanna's very lucky, too, to have you for her mother and Randy. He loves her so much."

"Thank you," she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes until she spoke again. "I saw your matches earlier this year. You were doing so well; your feud with Chris was great until that stupid Nexus business came along."

"Chris was a great opponent; I really enjoyed working with him," he said carefully, "and working with Randy was terrific."

"You two certainly stole the show that night. Poor Randy was a nervous wreck before; he was so scared he might injure you. In fact, I was worried that he had: he was like a bear with a sore head when he got home that week."

"Chris kind of got under his skin that night," Evan said with a smile. "He can be a real smartass."

"You must have missed him when he left."

"Randy told you?"

"He didn't have to," she said with a rueful smile. "I could tell by the way he talked about him. Believe me; he had some pretty interesting ideas about what he'd like to do to him."

"Sometimes Randy forgets that I'm not seventeen anymore. You should have heard him back then, warning me about the pervs in the locker room and the wrestling groupies."

"He loves you," she said. "He always has." The silence between them became less comfortable. "It's wonderful seeing you again," she finally said. "I have missed you and I wanted to talk to you about a few things."

"Such as?" he asked warily.

"They're releasing a DVD about Randy later this year."

"I'd heard."

"You know the sort of thing I'm talking about. His life in a nutshell, his best matches and lots of stuff about what a devoted father and loving husband he is." She stared at Evan levelly.

"Well, there's no question that he adores Alanna," Evan replied calmly.

Sam winced slightly. "I suppose I deserved that. The way Randy and I both treated you was dreadful."

Evan sipped his coffee to stall for time. "Our situation is – complicated," he said. "Most people would say that you are the injured party in all this."

"Maybe," she replied, "but I was only thinking of myself. I took advantage of your feelings for Randy instead of encouraging you to look for someone else and move on."

"Nobody forced me to do anything."

"No, but I played on your loyalty. You must have hated me when I showed up last year. I saw how you went out of your way to avoid me."

"I didn't hate you and what I did then was unforgivable. Randy had told me about the baby," he said. "I should have at least had the decency to say something to you."

A shadow passed over her face. "Can I tell you a little about what happened then?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not sure if I want to hear it."

"When you got back together with Randy, it was a lot harder than I expected it to be. The others – they didn't mean anything, but you… He _was_ happier, so at first I didn't mind so much that he usually slept in the spare room."

"I really don't think you should be telling me this," Evan said uncomfortably.

"He almost never touched me," she said, ignoring his words. "I usually had to get him drunk, but he came home one week in an absolutely foul mood. He shouted at Alanna and I couldn't do anything right. You know what he can be like."

Evan nodded. He knew; Randy could be vicious when he chose.

"Finally, he pushed me so hard I couldn't take it anymore and I ran to the bedroom and locked myself in the bathroom." She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a second. "He must have hammered on the door for ten minutes and finally he kicked it in. By then, I was screaming at him. You wouldn't believe some of the things I said. Alanna could hear us in her room and she was crying at the top of her voice. Randy told me to shut up and go to her, but I kept on and on and she kept on crying and crying and then there was this loud crash and she was quiet. She'd been trying to climb out of her crib for the past couple of weeks and this time she did it, but she went over the railing and hit her head on the edge of the dresser. There was so much blood and she was so quiet..." Sam shuddered and continued. "Randy snatched her up and we ran to the car and all the way to the hospital we kept screaming at each other, saying the most awful things you could imagine."

"But she was okay, wasn't she?" Evan asked, horrified by her story.

"Yes, thank God. She needed a few stitches and had a nasty bump, but not even a concussion. You'd think that Randy would have realised how badly head wounds bleed."

"I guess it's different when it's your own little girl."

"By the time we got home we were exhausted. We sat with Alanna for the rest of the night, but we were both so ashamed that we couldn't even look at each other. We barely said a word to each other the rest of the time he was home and he didn't let Alanna out of his sight for a second."

"I can believe that," Evan commented.

Sam poured them both another cup of coffee. "When Randy came home the next week, he was in an even worse mood, if that was possible," she said. "I found out later that you'd been off that week."

"I had a sinus infection and couldn't fly."

"We started on each other almost the second he walked in and poor Alanna knew something wasn't right and started crying. Suddenly, all I could think of was when I was little and my dad would come home drunk and my mother would start screaming at him and I'd hide under my bed because I was so scared. Or when I was a teenager and I'd play music as loud as I could so I couldn't hear them and how I'd lie on my bed with my pillow over my head thinking about how much I hated them both." She gulped her coffee. "And I realised we were doing the same thing to Alanna so I told Randy to leave. I thought he'd go to his parents'."

"But he didn't," Evan said flatly.

"I don't know where he went, but he came home two days later reeking of booze and God knows what else." She chuckled grimly. "You know how in movies people say, 'You smell like a whorehouse?' That's what he smelled like, but he felt terrible. He was so sorry; he did everything but throw himself at my feet."

"And you forgave him and you made up. I really don't want to hear any more," he said.

"Just give me another minute, please," she begged, holding up her hand. "When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know what to think, but Randy's reaction was even stranger. He was pleased; he'd love to have more children, but I could see that he was wondering how he was going to tell you."

"He didn't tell me; not until after... That really hurt. I would have been happy for him, for both of you."

"I actually wondered if I should go through with it," she said, watching him steadily. "The way things were between Randy and me... That's no situation to bring a child into. But then I lost it and I felt so guilty. Randy was devastated and then you walked away from him."

"What was I supposed to do?" Evan cried. "You and Alanna were coming on the road with him. Randy might behave pretty badly sometimes, but I don't think even he would have gone tip-toeing between our hotel rooms in the middle of the night."

"No, he wouldn't," she replied with a faint smile. "I was only going to travel with him for a few weeks, but he was so unhappy and lonely without you and he begged me to stay. He tried so hard those months."

"Randy always wants what he can't have and when he gets it, he doesn't want it anymore," Evan said bitterly, "or he wants something else more. I was tired of it. You know, during those months, I was actually happy. It was awful at first, but I learned how to make a life for myself. I made friends, my career was finally going somewhere and I had someone. Someone who made me laugh; someone who I could be with without every minute turning into some drama. I finally had some peace of mind."

"But you came back to Randy. I'm not stupid. There is no way that every PR thing he's been sent on for the last two months requires a stop-over in Florida."

"I never imagined you were," Evan said, regarding her stonily/

"They want him to do another movie sometime in the near future," she said. "The last one got a few pretty good reviews and a couple of critics even had some nice things to say about him."

"I know; he was really pleased."

Sam caught his gaze and held it. "He could be on the verge of something major, but it wouldn't take much for it all to come crashing down. He can't afford a scandal or even a rumour. If it ever got out there that he _wasn't_ quite the upstanding family man he plays…"

"Randy's had his share of scandal in the past," Evan retorted. "You know as well as I do that it only adds an extra element to him: a whiff of danger that makes him even more attractive."

"Ah," Sam replied with a smile Evan had never seen, "but that was in the past; in his wild, rebellious youth before he met his loving wife and settled down. An attractive wife and beautiful daughter can cover so many sins. Don't you agree?"

Evan felt himself grow cold at her veiled threat, but forced himself to respond in kind. "You once said I was safe. I walked away from Randy twice: the first time because I thought he needed you and the second time because you needed him. Did what I need ever occur to either of you?" he asked, his voice rising. "Well, guess what? This time I need him! I'm not fooling myself; there will be a very heavy price to pay, but I'm tired of other people using me. This time I'm calling the shots and if you don't like it, I'm sorry, but, for once, I'm putting myself first!' He stood abruptly. "I swear I will do my best not to humiliate you and I would never, ever come between Randy and Alanna, but if you invited me over here today and told me all of this to try to make me stop, you're out of luck. I warned you once that if I ever fought you for him I would win. Keep that in mind."

Sam stared speechlessly at him as he picked up his jacket and left and realised with a dull pang that she and Randy had finally succeeded in turning Evan into a creature as selfish as themselves.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a price and it was a heavy one. As soon as he rejoined the company he realised he was back on jobber detail. Hunter was blunt with him. "I warned you about your relationship with Randy. I'm really sorry; I would like to do more for you, but I can't."

"I understand," he said calmly, retreating behind a bland smile.

In spite of this, however, he was taken aback to have his match dropped from the card at the St Louis Raw. Randy had offered to intervene, but he had scornfully refused. There had been a slightly uncomfortable encounter with Samantha backstage. He kissed her on the cheek and teased and fussed over Alanna for a few minutes, but smilingly refused Randy's suggestion that he and his family join them for a meal after the show.

Later that night, as he sat in a local steak house with his family, he found himself almost wishing that he had agreed as he fended off questions about his non-appearance. "A few of the segments ran over; there wasn't enough time."

"Then somebody should have cut them short," his mother stated indignantly. "After all, they wasted all sorts of time on that Snooki woman."

"They have to build up interest in Wrestlemania. There will be other shows," he said. But he wasn't that sure. He knew he was being given a powerful warning. Just as their dessert was brought to the table, his phone rang. Seeing Randy's name on the call display, he excused himself and went to the reception area to take the call."

"Where are you?"

"At dinner with my family, of course."

"But where?"

Puzzled, Evan gave him the name of the restaurant.

"Good. I'm only a few minutes away. I need to talk to you."

"Randy," Evan said impatiently, "I'm with my family. I'll see you on Friday in Illinois." Randy was so insistent that he eventually agreed to meet him at a bar near the bus station in an hour. He knew he was entirely capable of driving out to his parents' house and pounding on the door until he got his way. Telling his family that he was meeting an old friend for a drink, he said good night to them outside of the restaurant and drove the short distance to the bar Randy had chosen.

"What a charming establishment," he said sarcastically as he took a seat in a booth opposite Randy, surveying the dark stained wood-panelled walls decorated with peeling posters advertising ball games from decades ago and the bored stripper, strutting on a tiny stage at the back before a half-dozen men, who were clearly more interested in their drinks. Even the neon sign over the bar looked tired.

Randy finished his drink and put the glass down, lining it up with five or six others on the table. "I was served my first beer here when I was fifteen," he said with a chuckle. "They weren't too careful about checking IDs. I think it's the same stripper. Of course, you were probably in the Boy Scouts then."

Evan signalled for a beer, choosing to drink it directly from the bottle, not entirely sure about the mug he was given. "I wouldn't have dared set foot in a place like this at that age and I would have probably died of embarrassment at the sight of an actual live, naked girl. Now, what's so important that it couldn't wait another few days?"

"I spoke to Hunter after the show."

"And?"

"He said that he's already warned you about being with me."

"That's right."

"It's not right!" Randy exclaimed. "You shouldn't have to pay for being involved with me."

"Maybe not, but I made my choice." He sipped at his beer. "If that's all you wanted to see me about, I'll head back to my parents' place."

Randy drained his glass and called for another. "Maybe it's time _I_ made a choice," he finally said.

"You do that," Evan said in exasperation. "Make up your mind what you really want for once and stick to it for a change." He pushed aside his barely-touched beer. "Give me a call when you've decided." Snatching up his coat, he headed towards the door, but hesitated. Randy must have had six or seven drinks; there was no way he should be driving. Sighing, he went back to the booth. "How are you getting home?" he asked.

"A cab, I guess."

"Come on, I'll take you home," he said, "but you can figure out how to get your car back tomorrow."

Randy followed him outside and stopped short at the curb. "I don't believe it!" he said. "You're still driving my old car!"

"I've got a new one in Florida. My parents let me keep this one in their garage for when I visit. Dan uses it sometimes," he said as he eased out into the road. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it," he added softly.

"I had a hard enough time convincing you to keep it." Randy smiled, "You were so cute, and fierce and proud, insisting on buying it from me." He remembered finally telling Evan to pay him what he could afford every month. Some months, it was as little as forty dollars, other months, as much as two-hundred, until, after a year, he refused to accept any more money from him. "I meant what I said earlier," he said as they pulled up in front of his house.

"Why don't you go in and sleep on it?" he replied with a non-committal smile.

"When are you heading back to Florida?"

"I'm not. I'm staying with my family and going directly to Illinois from here."

Randy reached over and switched off the ignition. "Can I see you?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea." He went to start the car again, but Randy stayed his hand.

"You still have this, I see," he murmured, fingering Evan's key ring.

"Of course," he answered quietly. "I've carried it since the day you gave it to me."

Randy caught Evan by the nape of his neck and drew him close. "I won't let you walk away from me again," he whispered fiercely. "Do you hear me?" He brought his mouth down upon Evan's, kissing him hungrily.

Evan drew his tongue into his mouth, returning his kiss feverishly, but just as Randy began to fumble with his fly, the front door opened and he could see Sam, silhouetted against the light that came from the house. Abruptly returned to sanity, Evan broke away. "You'd better go in."

"I'll talk to you soon, I promise," Randy said as he got out of the car.

Evan drove back to his parents' house slowly, reflecting on Randy's words. Ever since his return, a few weeks earlier, he had felt things spinning out of control. This couldn't go on much longer, he knew. In spite of his words to Sam, he knew that he was powerless to stop things from reaching their inevitable conclusion.

XXXXX

Randy brushed passed Sam, heading directly for the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a large drink.

Sam followed him and snatched the glass from his hand. "Honestly Randy," she said, carefully keeping her voice low, "I put up with an awful lot, but in front of our house? That's going too far!"

"Go to bed, Sam," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"What's next?" she hissed. "Why don't you bring him home? Then you can sneak down to the spare room after I'm asleep. Oh! I forgot!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "You already sleep in the spare room."

"Just shut the fuck up," he replied in the same eerily quiet voice. "I'm going to bed."

"I will not shut up," she cried. "It's time you decided what you want. This has gone on long enough."

"You seem to forget," he said silkily, "that this was your idea in the first place. You didn't like me screwing around, so you offered Evan up to me on a silver platter, but you made a big mistake. You underestimated Evan. You thought he was some puppy who'd come when you called and roll over and play dead when you'd had enough, but you were wrong. And you were wrong about me. You thought I just needed some piece on the side."

"Get out!" she whispered. "Get out now! Go to him then, but remember that I'll make sure you never see Alanna again."

Randy slowly advanced on her, his eyes a flat grey. "You will never keep me away from her."

"Oh! But I will!" she crooned in a strange sing-song voice. "I'll go public; I'll ruin both of you. I'll tell them about every ring-rat you fucked, every piece of rough trade you ever picked up. I will destroy you!"

"You fucking bitch!" he shouted, grasping her wrist and shoving her against the wall. They stared at each other, panting with fury. Suddenly, Randy released her. "Oh no you don't, you self-righteous bitch. I won't lay a hand on you. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Then you could go to the police." He gave a mirthless laugh. "When did you turn into your mother? When did you turn into such a cunt?"

Sam staggered as if struck and sank into a chair. "Randy! I'm sorry!" she cried. "I would never do any of those things, I swear. I would never try to take Alanna away from you."

Randy retrieved his drink and poured her one. "Here," he said gruffly, "drink this."

She swallowed it gratefully. "I – I shouldn't have said those things," she stammered. "I swear I would never…" Tears spilled down her face. "But we can't go on like this anymore."

"You're right," Randy said gently. "We can't."

XXXXX

Randy wandered aimlessly around his house the following afternoon. Sam had gone shopping and Alanna had finally settled down enough to take a nap. Although Sam had said that her schedule had been disrupted by staying up late the previous night, Randy knew that she could feel the tension in the house and had become fretful and whiny.

"Just like you when you don't get your own way," Evan had laughed when he spoke to him that morning. His brother had driven him downtown to fetch his car. Considering the neighbourhood, he was grateful to find it unscathed with only a parking ticket on the windshield.

He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and looked around the kitchen, remembering how insanely proud he had been of the granite countertops and high-end appliances, most of which he had only the faintest idea how to use. How ridiculously pleased he had been to move into this house with its marble bathrooms, three-car garage and state-of-the-art electronics. He had everything: professional success, fame, wealth, a beautiful house, a beautiful wife and a beautiful child.

He moved slowly around the living room, touching various objects as if seeing them for the first time. Sam had done a wonderful job personalising the room, turning it from an arid showplace to a home. The silly knick-knacks he had brought back from road trips were crowded for space with silver-framed photographs: their wedding, his parents' thirtieth anniversary dinner. Alanna's first birthday and, tucked behind a lamp, a photo of him and Evan laughing together, taken when Evan was about nineteen. They were so young then, he mused. His father had brought Evan backstage after a house-show in St Louis. He remembered Cody Rhodes had been there with his father, driving everybody crazy, leaping out from doorways, snapping pictures with his fancy new camera.

Climbing the stairs, he stood in the door of Alanna's room watching her sleep. He had never imagined he could love somebody as much as he loved her, thinking regretfully of the lost babies. He could hear Sam letting herself in and, with another glance at his daughter's golden head, he loped down the stairs.

"Alanna's napping," he said. "I thought I'd go to the gym for a bit and drop in on my folks."

"Of course," she replied, unwilling to disturb their fragile truce. "I'll see you later."

He shouldered his bag, sitting at the foot of the stairs and called, "Don't wait up," as she disappeared into the kitchen. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and unthreaded his house key from the ring. He placed it on the hall table and closed the door behind him.

XXXXX

"Well, don't just stand there in the rain," Bob Orton exclaimed in exasperation at the sight of Randy, clutching his bag, standing on his doorstep. "Did Sam finally come to her senses and boot you out?"

"Not exactly," Randy said sheepishly, "but we had a bit of a blow-out. Can I bunk here for a day or two?"

Bob shrugged. "Only if you're the one to tell your mother."

"Coward!" Randy laughed, giving his father an affectionate shove as he followed him inside. He stowed his bag in his old room and joined Bob in the den just as the doorbell rang.

"Another refugee," Bob chuckled as he led Evan inside. "Family driving you crazy?"

"You could say that," he laughed. "Dan's buddies are all there, blasting music down in the rec room. I must be getting old, but it doesn't even sound like music to me. My mother's vacuuming the place from top to bottom and my father's complaining he can't get any work done with all the racket. I decided to escape somewhere a little saner. Of course," he added, catching sight of Randy lounging on the couch, "I could be mistaken."

As Randy made room for him on the couch, Bob tossed them each a can of beer and leaned back in his recliner with his own. "So what happened last night?" he asked. "Why weren't you on the card?"

"Stuff ran overtime," Evan said with a shrug. "You know how it is."

"That might work for your folks, but you're talking to _me_ now," Bob said. "Who'd you piss off?"

"Hunter," he muttered. There was no point in trying to deceive Randy's father.

"Not a good choice," Orton ruminated. "You'd better start kissing some ass when you get back." He would have said more, but catching sight of their stubbornly set profiles, he changed the subject. They watched sports' highlights for an hour until Bob got up, mumbling something about dinner and left them alone.

"Do you want to put on a movie?" Randy asked.

"How about Brokeback Mountain?" Evan suggested.

"That's not funny, but seriously, we should get out of here. My mom's on duty and you do _not_ want to eat my father's cooking." Calling to his father that they were taking off for a while, they climbed into the car.

"Where to?" he asked.

"There's a motel about twenty minutes from here. We need to talk."

"Talk?" Evan said with an impish grin.

"Well…"

Evan laughed, making jokes about the No-Tell Motel until they pulled up in front of a run-down building off the highway. "What name did you sign us in under?" he asked as he followed Randy into the room.

"Vince McMahon," Randy grinned. He pushed Evan against the wall and pinned his wrists over his head as he kissed him urgently. With his free hand, he sought Evan's fly and opened it, slipping his hand into his briefs. "I've left Sam," he muttered as his teeth grazed Evan's jaw and chin.

Evan freed his hands from Randy's grasp and pushed him away, breathing heavily, trying to take in his words. He stared at Randy, smiling down on him, his eyes glowing blue with passion as he tried to understand the rising tide of emotion that coursed through him: excitement, fear and something else. Something he could scarcely admit. _Triumph_. His head swam as the knowledge that Randy had, at last, made his choice surged through him.

Then, just as suddenly, it was gone. "What did she say? What did she say when you told her?"

"I didn't exactly tell her," Randy replied, not meeting his eyes, "but she'll know when I don't come home tonight."

"I see," he said quietly, swallowing hard.

"You'll see," Randy said, pulling him into his arms. "Everything will be different now."

Not trusting himself to speak, he pulled Randy's head down to his own and claimed his mouth as Randy swept him up and laid him on the bed. Hungrily returning Randy's kisses, he tugged his shirt over his head and impatiently pushed down his jeans and briefs. Randy hurriedly stripped off his own clothes and covered Evan's body with his, gathering him close.

"No more waiting," Randy muttered. "No more lies or sneaking around." He knelt between his legs and drove home with a single, swift thrust.

Evan cried out once as Randy filled him, but pulled him close, seeking to maximise their contact, meeting Randy's every thrust as he cupped his buttocks to draw him in further. Too soon, the friction from his shaft as it slid between their sweat-slick bellies drove him over the edge and he burst forth, crying out Randy's name as he came. The rhythmic contractions of Evan's muscles were too much for Randy and, holding him tightly, he reached completion with a long sigh.

They made love again about an hour later, more slowly this time, their initial urgency gone. Randy held Evan close, tenderly stroking his face and neck, whispering words of love, as he responded feverishly with slow caresses that left no part of his body untouched by his lips and fingers, until, finally replete, they fell into a light doze, still in each others' arms.

XXXXX

_Six years earlier_

Randy woke slowly to see Evan, propped on his elbow, smiling down on him. "Have you been awake long?" he asked, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Only a few minutes," he said. "I was looking at you." He traced the contours of Randy's face with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful."

"So are you," Randy said, smoothing his hand down Evan's compact torso. "Are you okay?"

"A little sore, still."

"I wish you'd said something yesterday. I hate the idea that I hurt you; I would have been more careful."

"Randy," he said softly as he was swept into his embrace, "it was wonderful. You were wonderful."

An hour later they were both dressed. "I wish you didn't have to leave," Randy complained.

"I do, too, but my parents probably think that you've sold me to a white slave ring by now."

Randy picked up the little necklace Evan had thrown onto the coffee table the day before and tied it around his neck. "Keep this," he said, "and remember, no matter where I am, no matter where you are, I'll be waiting for you to come back to me."

Evan pulled him down for a last embrace. "And you remember that I'll always be waiting for you."

XXXXX

"What are you doing," Randy grumbled as Evan climbed out of the bed.

"Getting dressed. I need to go home and so do you."

"Call your folks and tell them you're crashing at my dad's."

"I think it would be better if I went home."

"But Evan," Randy exclaimed, smiling gently, "we don't need to worry about that kind of thing anymore. Of course, we'll still have to be discreet, especially at first, but there's nothing stopping us from being together."

"You know what?" Evan sighed. "You're like a child. You think if you want something bad enough, you'll just get it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sitting up and regarding Evan with narrowed eyes. "You wanted me to make a choice and I did. I've left Sam."

"No, you haven't," he said firmly. "You walked out on her."

"It's the same thing," he said sullenly. "Anyway, after the fight we had last night, she won't be surprised."

"You had a fight and walked out," Evan said slowly, shaking his head. "Nothing's changed."

"But it has! Last night was practically a brawl. Oh, I didn't touch her," he hurried to add, seeing Evan's expression, "but after the things she said and the threats she made, there's no way I'm staying."

"What sort of threats?" he asked dully, although he already knew.

"You know; that she'd take Alanna from me and she'd smear our names all over the place. But she wouldn't, I'm sure."

"I'm not so sure," Evan replied, remembering his recent conversation with Sam; a lioness protecting her territory was dangerous. "Look," he said, struggling to maintain his composure, "we can talk about this later, but, for now, we should head home."

Randy dressed reluctantly and they hurried out to the car, ducking their heads against the heavily falling rain.

XXXXX

Sam glanced at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes. Sometimes Randy stayed with his dad, especially if he'd had a few drinks, but he always called. After last night, however, she doubted he had any urge to speak to her at all. How could she have said those things or made those awful threats? If she hadn't lost him already, she would have driven him away last night, but the sight of Evan, in his embrace, had filled her with a rage so all-consuming, that all reason had fled.

One thing was certain: they couldn't continue like this any longer. When Randy returned she would insist that they discuss it like reasonable adults. She would greet him calmly, pour him a drink and state her case. Her arguments were powerful: in spite of everything, she did believe that Randy loved her and he couldn't live without Alanna; that was obvious. Sooner or later, his liaison with Evan would damage or destroy his career. And Evan's, she thought with a twinge of her old affection for him. She honestly didn't wish him any ill. Surely, when Randy heard her out, he would make the right decision.

She heard a noise out front and ran to the door to meet Randy, but the car pulling up to the curb wasn't his. Then she saw Randy's house key sitting on the hall table and Evan's warning of years earlier, repeated a few weeks ago, slammed into her as she sank down to sit on the stairs, reeling at the knowledge that Evan had won.

The insistent ringing of the doorbell finally roused her and she moved unsteadily to the door.

"Mrs Orton?" the uniformed police officer asked. "Your husband has been in an accident…"

XXXXX

Randy seemed to make the adjustment to Smackdown with little difficulty. He claimed to be enjoying his feud with Christian and admitted that the slightly more relaxed pace of a taped show suited him for now. But Sam knew that he was still calling Evan regularly, becoming agitated when he couldn't get hold of him. She had tried, as gently as possible, to persuade him to accept that things had changed, but she could see his eyes grow flat and distant when she spoke, shutting her out. In desperation, she had called his father. "Can't you talk to him, Bob? He won't listen to me."

"Orton's sigh was audible over the phone. "You know, we both meddled with Randy's life and Evan's. I think we need to let Randy sort it out for himself. Give it time."

She tried. Randy continued to treat her with a gentle, off-hand affection when he was home, spending as much time as possible with Alanna, but his haunted eyes and palpable misery seared her.

She could hear noises in the family room: Randy was shouting and Alanna was crying. Rushing down the stairs, she found Alanna, cowering on the couch as Randy loomed over her, clutching his phone.

"Randy!" she cried, hurrying to Alanna, "Stop it! You're scaring her!" She picked up her sobbing daughter and spoke softly to her, trying to comfort her.

"She was playing with my phone!"

"So what?" Sam snapped. "She hasn't broken it. There's no reason to act like this."

She carried Alanna to her room, murmuring soothingly to her. "It's okay sweetie. Daddy didn't mean to yell at you. He's sorry." Finally, she calmed her down and tucked her into her bed, sitting with her until she fell asleep.

She returned to the family room where Randy was frantically punching at his keypad. "Honestly, she's just a little girl. You didn't need to carry on like that."

"She deleted all my messages."

"If it's important, I'm sure they'll call back."

"But what if they don't? What if someone was trying to get hold of me? They might think I'm ignoring them," Randy said, pacing around the room.

"Like Evan?" she asked quietly.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, becoming visibly more agitated. "He almost never calls. What if he did?"

Sam fought to remain calm. "He hasn't called you since the accident."

"I know! Maybe he's mad at me! It was my fault!"

"Randy," she said, trying to put her arm around him, "the accident wasn't your fault."

"But it was!" he cried, shrugging her off. "It was raining and I wasn't paying attention. We were arguing."

"Listen to me!" She finally succeeded in making him sit down and took his hands. "The accident wasn't your fault," she repeated. "Evan was driving."

Randy blinked at her in confusion. "He was?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "You were in your old car: the one you gave to him. He'd parked you in at Bob's. Don't you remember?"

Randy rubbed his face. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Sam heaved a mental sigh of relief as Randy's expression cleared. Perhaps, if he weren't so tormented by guilt, he could start to accept the truth. He sat quietly, staring at his phone, murmuring assent when she offered to fetch him a cup of coffee. When she returned with two steaming mugs, however, Randy was madly punching the buttons on his phone again.

"She erased my contact list," he said, his distress visible.

"Sit back and drink your coffee," Sam replied. "I'll get my phone and we'll go through my list. I'm sure most of yours are on mine." She spent the next half-hour patiently scrolling through her list as Randy entered names and numbers into his own phone.

"I think that's about it," she finally said. "I have a few more, but I don't think you really want my mother's number," she grinned. "Check the laptop; there might some more on there that I don't have."

Randy nodded and did as she suggested, adding his business manager, his lawyer and a number of professional contacts. He was still missing several, but decided he could get most of them from the guys when he rejoined the company. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure Sam was out of the room, he entered Evan's name, but when he tried to key in his number, he drew a blank. Shaking his head, he made several attempts, but the numbers would not come. He searched the laptop; sure that he had Evan's information there, without success.

"Sam," he called, trying to keep his voice casual, "you wouldn't happen to have Evan's number, would you?"

She came back into the room. "No, I don't, she said, taking a deep breath, "and I deleted it from the laptop."

Randy flushed deep red with rage; Sam could see a vein pulsing at his temple, but he forced himself to smile. "Then I'll call my dad. He must have it."

Sam sank onto the couch, watching him helplessly, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he received no reply.

"You have his parents' number, don't you? I'll call them."

"You can't!" she cried urgently. Recovering herself, she added, "It's the middle of the afternoon. They're both working."

"You're right," he said, retreating behind a bland smile. "I'll try later." He supposed he could get his number from someone else in the company, but was reluctant to do so. There had been enough gossip and speculation about them. He could hear Alanna stirring in her room and, regretting his earlier outburst, went to her. He spent the next hour playing with her, patiently helping her build towering stacks of blocks that she promptly knocked down, carrying her on his back round and round her room and tickling her as she giggled and squealed. He led her downstairs, surprised when she refused to hold his hand.

"No!" she insisted. "Big girl now!" she said as she clutched the banister and started down the steps one at a time.

"Of course you're a big girl now," he said, "but I like it when you hold my hand."

She stared at him for a moment before saying, "'Kay," and slipping her little hand into his.

Their slow descent completed, Sam gave her a drink and she curled up on the couch watching TV.

"What time does school get out?" Randy asked. "Do you think Michael or Monica will be home by now?"

Sam felt sick; she had hoped with every fibre of her being to avoid this, but it would be too cruel to let him call Evan's parents. Glancing at Alanna, engrossed in the TV, she led Randy into the living room. "You can't call them," she said, keeping her voice low.

"Don't be ridiculous," Randy retorted. "Of course I can."

"They can't give you his number," she said desperately.

"Why not? I'm one of his oldest friends." His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I know _you_ don't want me talking to him."

"Listen to me!" she said. "You have to stop trying to call him. It's over."

Randy smiled slightly at her. "But it isn't. In fact, it's stronger than ever."

She clutched his forearms. "Randy," she said softly, "you can't call Evan and he can't call you back." She tightened her hold as he tried to withdraw. "Evan is dead. He died in the accident."

XXXXX

Randy came around slowly with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He could hear the rain pounding on the car, but could see nothing in the darkness. Harsh breathing penetrated his consciousness and he turned his head to see Evan, pinned by the steering column, blood running from his nose and oozing from his mouth.

"Jesus!" he rasped. "Evan! Evan!" As Evan's eyes slowly opened, he managed to unfasten his seatbelt and painfully retrieved his phone. "I'm calling 911," he said spitting out a mouthful of blood. "I've been in an accident," he said into the phone. "On the highway." He tried to tell the operator exactly where he was, but had no real idea. "It's the car that's wrapped around a fucking tree!" he shouted.

"Evan!" he cried. "It's going to be okay. The ambulance will be here any second."

Evan made no sound, but his breath came in hoarse, strangled gasps as his right hand slowly crept across the seat towards him. Randy snatched his hand, forcing himself to hold it gently. "Everything's going to be fine, you'll see," he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Just hang on. They'll be here soon."

"Randy…" Evan's whisper was so faint he could barely hear it. "So sorry…"

"No!" he said, his voice cracking. "Just stay with me. I'm here; you're going to be fine, I swear. Stay with me."

"So sorry… Can't wait for you this time." Blood bubbled from his mouth. "Can't wait…" he sighed as his eyes fluttered shut.

"No!" Randy howled. "Stay! For God's sake, stay!" He could hear the emergency vehicles arriving and wondered absently where the screaming was coming from until he realised that it was him.

XXXXX

Sam stared at the phone wondering if she should call Monica and warn her that there was a very good chance that a demented Randy might show up at her door. They had met for lunch the day before and she had told her that Randy was having difficulty in accepting the fact of Evan's death.

"If he'd been able to go to the funeral…" Sam said.

"I know," Monica replied, "but we had to do it before sunset. It's funny; Michael's never been observant, but, I guess, at a time like this there's a certain comfort in ritual." As Sam gently squeezed her hand, she continued, "We talk about him all the time. It's not sad; we remember the good times. Hopefully, Randy can get to that place one day."

Sam nodded wordlessly as Monica pulled an envelope from her purse. "I have a couple of things here I thought Randy might like; a few little keepsakes and photos. He was such a good friend to him," she added, looking at her steadily and Sam realised that Evan's mother had known.

"He was," she answered.

Finally, Sam decided to make the call. Maybe Mike could deal with him if he showed up and spare his parents that particular confrontation. Monica thanked her quietly, but told her she would rather speak to him herself, leaving Sam dumbstruck by her courage and generosity of spirit.

She would never forget Randy's expression when she said those words; how he had turned grey and staggered as if struck. He had whispered, "You're lying."

"I wish I were," she had said. "They buried him the day you left the hospital. You weren't in any state to go. John and Liz flew out; you remember."

"It's not true," he said flatly. "I've spoken to him."

"You've left messages on his voice mail. He never called you back. The doctor said you were blocking it out; that you'd remember eventually, but I can't let you call Michael and Monica. It would be brutal for them."

"But I've seen him," he insisted. "He's come to see me. We've been together," he said, an uncertain note creeping into his voice.

Strangely enough, Sam found herself filled with pity for him. "I'm so sorry, Randy, but he's gone. It's time you accepted that."

But Randy was beyond all reason. He had shoved past her without a word, snatched up his phone and slammed the door behind him close to an hour ago. She had heard his tires squealing as he raced down the street and found herself hoping he'd be stopped by the police before he got too far, but now there was nothing to do but wait.

XXXXX

Randy brought his car to a screeching halt in front of Evan's old home. Monica opened the door before he could knock and invited him in. Michael was waiting in the living room and greeted him with a smile so like Evan's that he felt his heart clench. He'd always liked Evan's quiet, soft-spoken father; he couldn't have been more different from his own and had joked on occasion that if his teachers had resembled Michael or Monica, he might have done better in school.

"It's good to see you again, Randy," he said. "How's your shoulder?"

He forced himself to make polite conversation for several minutes, but he noticed that Michael looked slightly haggard and Monica had fine lines etched about her eyes that he had never seen before and, suddenly, he knew. These two, gentle, smiling people carried with them a grief that would never leave and yet they welcomed him with a dignity and courage that he could never match. Mumbling something about being in the neighbourhood and dropping in, he stood and shook Michael's hand, enveloped Monica in a fierce hug and left.

XXXXX

He had no idea how long he had been driving, but it had been dark for several hours. He had no real idea where he was, but knew he was somewhere on the outskirts of town. He'd refuelled once and resumed his mindless journey, trying to outrun the shrieks and howls that echoed in his head.

Fragments of that night came back to him: shouting while Evan insisted that nothing had changed until he actually faced Sam, the glare of the headlights of a tractor trailer bearing down on them as Evan attempted to swerve out of the way, the car skittering across the highway as if on ice, spinning out of control, the crunch of machinery and the tinkle of broken glass as they slammed into the tree, his own sudden jolt of pain and then blackness. Coming around to the sound of rain beating relentlessly on the crumpled automobile and Evan's wheezing gasps as he struggled to breath. Evan, mangled and bloodied, his hand creeping across the seat to seek his own. His faint whispers and last sighing breath as the light left his eyes and they closed.

He remembered the ambulance arriving, screaming at the EMTs when they wouldn't let him climb in with Evan. He remembered two burly men trying to restrain him as he cursed and howled until he was enveloped by darkness. He remembered regaining consciousness in the hospital and his father, his own eyes swollen and red, whispering hoarsely, "He's gone, son," and the darkness taking him again until he woke up in his own bed, with no memory of leaving the hospital or returning home.

But he had seen Evan, spoken to him and held him in his arms. He head pounded as he remembered their encounters; their passion had been too real to be a figment of his imagination; Evan's smile and laugh had been too vivid to be mere fantasies. The knowledge that he was gone slammed into him as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator and suddenly he knew where he was, where he was headed and what he was going to do and began to laugh because, in another few minutes, he would never have to wait for Evan again.

XXXXX

Monica had called Sam after Randy left. He was clearly agitated, she'd said. Perhaps Sam should call the police; he was in no state to be on the road. As the hours passed, she began to consider the idea, finally deciding that if she had heard nothing by midnight, she would. She had made an enormous effort to appear calm and cheerful around Alanna, but the little girl could sense her mother's disquiet and had spent the evening curled up in a corner of the couch, sucking her thumb, watching her with slightly fearful eyes.

Suddenly she was assailed by a dreadful memory of herself, not much older than Alanna, watching her own mother as she waited for her father to come home. If they got through this night things would change, she swore. Her daughter was not going to grow up in a house where the primary pastime was fearful waiting and if Randy didn't like it, he was free to leave. With frightening clarity, she understood that her motives had been entirely selfish. She had tried to bind Randy to her with chains of guilt and obligation and she had ruthlessly used Evan for her own purposes with tragic consequences. She cuddled Alanna close, smiling as she felt her relax and grow drowsy, finally falling asleep. And just as she began to drift off to sleep herself, the phone rang.

XXXXX

It was strange, Randy thought, how you could pass the same place hundreds of times without realising its significance; how it could barely register for years and years until the day when you knew that it had been waiting for you all your life. He carefully eased up on the gas pedal; it wouldn't do to be stopped now. It was a clear, moonlit night, but that didn't matter. Every bump in the road, every fence post and billboard he passed, greeted him like an old friend as he sped towards his final destination.

And there it was: still a speck on the horizon as he rounded the long, slow curve of the road and increased his speed. The powerful engine of the car roared, but he heard nothing as he gripped the steering wheel and hunched forward, hurtling towards the tree, the scar on its trunk still fresh. He was almost there; just the slightest correction of the steering wheel would do it. He set his teeth and nudged the wheel as the tree loomed closer and closer. And suddenly the wheel jerked from his grasp and the car fish-tailed wildly, racing past the tree to spin out of control, before coming to a stop in a ditch on the side of the road.

He tried to back out of the ditch, but his wheels spun fruitlessly. Gasping for air, he climbed out of the car and collapsed onto the grassy verge, shaking from head to foot.

"That was a very stupid thing you almost did," said a voice next to him.

Randy stared in shock at Evan. "I must be going crazy," he mumbled.

"No, you're not," he said, "but most folks would probably disagree."

"But how?" he asked. "I – I don't understand."

"Neither do I, actually," he grinned.

"Are you a ghost?"

"No."

"An angel?"

"Definitely not," Evan laughed.

"Then how? Why?" He shook his head and closed his eyes, but when he opened them, Evan was still there.

"I'm not really sure. Sometimes, I could just… come."

"Will you keep coming?" Randy asked.

"No. Not anymore."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" he shouted.

"You go back home to your wife and child and live your life."

"How?"

"By doing the things that people do: play with your daughter, take your wife out to dinner. Meet John for a beer after a show. Go fishing with your brother and hunting with your dad. Go shopping with your mom and act like you enjoy it," he grinned. "Laugh, get mad, cry once in a while. Get drunk with the guys occasionally; get busy living. Okay," he laughed, "I stole that one from Shawshank Redemption. And, once in a while, remember me."

"Once in a while!" Randy said as silent tears coursed down his face. "I'll remember you every minute of every day."

"Don't," Evan said softly. "Give yourself completely to the life you have; you'll be happy, I promise."

"Will I see you again?"

"Not for a long time."

"Can I? Can you?" Randy gestured helplessly.

"Of course," Evan whispered, moving into his embrace for a final time, as Randy hooked his finger around his necklace. "I'll be waiting for you," he murmured and was gone.

Randy sat motionless until the tears on his cheeks dried and dug his phone out of his pocket. "Sam," he said as she answered on the first ring, "can you come and get me?"

XXXXX

Shaking with relief, Sam hurried to the closet to fetch a jacket for Alanna, still sleeping on the couch, whirling around in disbelief as she heard a voice saying, "He's going to need you very much; you and Alanna, both."

Evan grinned and held up his hand. "No, you're not going crazy and I'm not a ghost."

"But-"

"I can't explain it either; Randy's going to be okay, but he'll need your help."

"And you?"

"I'll be waiting," he said, his face splitting with his habitual grin, "for both of you, but don't worry; it won't be for a long time."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "This is all my fault."

"No, it isn't," he said, taking her into his arms. "Don't blame yourself; not for a second. Do you remember when I told you I was very lucky? I was given so many people to love. I didn't always do it right, but I can't regret a single moment." His arms tightened around her for a second as he kissed her cheek and he was gone.

XXXXX

Sam had no problem finding Randy. A tow-truck and two police cruisers were parked next to the car. Randy was controlling his temper with great difficulty while the police administered a road-side sobriety test as he explained for the tenth time that he had been momentarily distracted, lost control of his car and landed in the ditch. His wife would be there any minute, he said.

Eventually, the police were satisfied. He told the tow-truck driver to go ahead and take his car back to town and he was alone with Sam as Alanna slept in her car-seat.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "It's worth paying for a tow just to get rid of the guy. Let's go home."

"In a second," Sam replied, pulling him to sit down beside her on the grassy verge. "Alanna's sleeping; she'll be all right for a minute." She leaned her head against Randy's shoulder as he put his arm around her. "I saw him, you know." Randy nodded slowly and squeezed her as she continued. "Monica gave me this," she said pulling a small object from her pocket. "She thought you might like to have it."

Randy gently fingered the frayed black cord, knotted on itself several times to keep the beads from slipping off, and closed his fist around it, his shoulders heaving as Sam held him close. Although, over the years, Randy would sometimes catch a glimpse of a slight dark-haired figure, spot a pair of shining brown eyes or recognise a heart-melting smile across a crowded room, he would always chuckle and shake his head in disbelief, but Sam knew better.

In the car, Alanna's eyes fluttered open as she felt a gentle kiss on the top of her head and heard a voice saying softly, "You're going to be so happy. Your mommy and daddy love you so much." And she gurgled contentedly in the darkness until her parents climbed into the car and they made the journey home.


End file.
